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from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

Every family has its secrets, doors that
are locked from entering rooms with repainted walls and closed drapes.
It is these private spaces that were once
like sponges absorbing words and graphic visuals never to be repeated or seen
again. No family is totally transparent,
a truth that is a given, and attempting to seek openness only results in
disappointment and frustration. Outside
the family circle we can "pose" and "put on" airs for the
strangers we confront, our co-workers who we casually engage, or for our
acquaintances that we attempt to impress.
While we might deceive these superficial humans in our life, we cannot
hide our true identities from those who know us only too well--our family
members.

Such is the
Briden household, a family of six children and two adults who have learnt and
matured in the evolution of growing minds and bodies.
By parenting I've learned there are times to
teach and times to share. One can be
perceived in judgment and rejection; the other a lesson in giving value of
giving and providing the example ourselves.
This is one of those stories of sharing, a convergent experience of life
without boundaries.

As a father of
six I would not bore you with a story that most families have experienced or
want to. I'm a simple man, a product of
the recession and part of the nine percent unemployment rate of the infamous
Bush era. I've recovered somewhat in the
Obama years, though I sweat having another Republican takeover. This vacation
from a vocation was the impetus for the initial seed to this tale.
Being common means living in a middle class
community like Kettering, Ohio, a block from Oakview Elementary.

Our two-story,
yellow exterior house was formatted on an American dream of the 1950's, Kenosha
Street, with dozens of other families who survived by fighting to keep their
homes out of foreclosure or being found out by their neighbors that the air we
put on was just the surface of our problems.

I complicated my
life by marrying a Mormon girl, committing my family to being brought up under
the Amway plan of getting to heaven, based on performance and contributions to
the church. That's not to mention
depriving myself and sons of certain luxuries and culinary tastes, including
cold beer, cokes and coffee. Through the
first eighteen years of marriage these sacrifices were routinely endured by all
concerned, all due to blind faith and ignorance.

Alas, this novel
is not about my Mormonic suffering or my hiding the fact that I belonged to a
church that was nothing more than an extension of my weekly job at a monolithic
corporation known as NCR, National Cash Register.

What this novel
is about is four boys: my sons, my genes, and each a study in uniqueness.
I pretended to know these four boys for their
entire youthful lives, when in fact we found each other over a period of two
months off the coast of the Caribbean Islands.
What I can't do is begin this tome on the open seas, but in a
four-bedroom home with a family of eight, trying their best to circumvent each
other and hide all possible appearances of sexual wont and personal
inadequacies.

My oldest child
is Cynthia, a young lady who is currently residing at Ohio State University,
but was seventeen at the time of this life eruption.
Much like my eldest son, Keith, a year
younger than his oldest sister, both my eldest teenagers were diligent clones
of my wife's attempt to make good Mormons out of naive minds.
One wanted to venture to Ohio State and major
in the arts; the other had visions of spending two years as a Mormon
missionary. Only one of them would
fulfill their dreams. I shied from my
oldest daughter because her sophistication was beyond my patience, her snobbish
demeanor of an immaturity that only time can cure.

Keith didn't need
a father, he needed 2 years in boot camp to rock his arrogant ass a few notches
down. I neither had the time or the
ability to mold him. A briefs man, it
matched his anal retentive nature.

My middle
children were in fact that, twins, one boy, one girl.
Diabolically different in personalities, they
shared far more than what either wanted to admit.
Kyle, at fifteen, is in fact the nucleus of
this adventure, a young man so emotionally removed from this family of
pretenders that his soul had to be saved at the expense of the other seven
members of this family. The boy loves European cut briefs. He is, and forever
will be, daddy's boy, my innermost favorite that every parent possesses but
never admits.

As blond as
California surfers, the twins' hair makes them more likeable at school and
definitely more available to be sexualized.
Katy, the other half of this twin combination, is a ponytailed
cheerleader, the charismatic sibling with a life tied to a pseudo acceptance
from her peers. I have to admire her
dedication to the church with the peer pressures of her generation.
Her detachment from anything family oriented
gives her a sense of adolescent independence, if not ambiguity.

Kory, another
male a year younger than the twins, is the family detective, a watchful,
suspicious, somewhat psychic, and mentally gifted boy who makes me wonder if
he's really my son. Being somewhat
paranoid, I often think that he's a plant for his mother, a sleuth for a
teenager whose whole life is spent spying on his father.
I think he had to question his identity to
me, as well. Kory is the charmer, caught
between the cuter brother and the most handsome in Kyle.
He has the Cody personality in relationship
to Zach in a show my children often watch: a neat freak, compulsive groomer,
boxers (as compared to briefs), student of all things moral, and has to have
everything in its place. He scares
me. Forever the antagonizer, the boy
thrives on knowing the innermost secret of any nemesis to protect himself from
future humiliation. This also includes
gaining insight on his father. While his
brothers don't mind being seen in their underwear, Kory has an inhibition like
his eldest brothers, a belief that sex is something done by other religions and
should be kept secret from all scrutiny.
I actually went along with this belief for eighteen years.
Backward boxers to subdue flapping penises
and surprise erections.

Last, but never
ignored, is Kit, our left behind twelve-year old and the only boy without a
crewcut as this novel takes shape. After
five siblings of discipline and structured growth, which was a failure, Kit was
left to his own resources to make the best of what we did right and wrong with
his previous siblings. Probably the most
rebellious of our children, I believe his parents were just too tired to try to
mold him to be this upright Mormon youth.
Instead he turned out to be the most normal and hilariously funny.
No doubt the best athlete, the boy challenges
the family's morality, values, and religious foundation by exercising his
options at the most inopportune times.
Little did I know he had a better comprehension of his likes and
dislikes than his own father. A true
21st century teenager, he's the future for the gay icon--a boy who wears
T-shirts that doesn't mince words: I'M GAY, GET OVER IT.
This, mind you, was after our families'
catharsis. He's a Mormon nightmare; yet,
he's God's sidekick. While his brothers
and sisters share a combination of brown and blue eyes, blond to brunette hair,
Kit glories in his auburn mop with butterscotch eyes.
God forbid anyone to ridicule the boy, for
tears come quicker than a harsh remark, as he melts his guardians to instant
reprieve and forgiveness. The sign on
his bedroom door says it all, BEWARE, HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON. Oh yeah, total
commando, with church the exception--his mother checks.

Regarding their
father, when I was a near college graduate I met a young lady, the daughter of
one of the men in our foursome on that sunny afternoon at our local country
club where our college golf team practiced.
Not that I was a member, but an invitee of a college roommate on that
particular Sunday afternoon. I had always
felt that the members on this course resented our brash herd of hormonal men
with their own fraternity for the love of golf.
This attitude allowed me to give strokes away to the two senior members
accompanying us that day. It worked well
enough that this pompous old fart--a name I would adopt for my future
father-in-law--to invite me to meet his daughter.
Of course I had to endure his verbal
polygraph: Did I smoke? Did I
drink? How many vices did I have?
I believe I mentioned masturbation, which got
a laugh from this demonic bird.
Otherwise my slate was pretty clean.

Hardly used to
rubbing elbows with the elite and wealthy, I sensed Lucy's attentiveness in my
direction and, by the next evening, we had begun our dating ritual.
To this day I highly doubt her parents' gave
their consent to this eventual marriage, but my acquiescing to raising our
children Mormon had helped erase most of their animosity to my Methodist
upbringing and middle class nurturing. I
suppose it helped that I made sure her father beat me at golf every time.
Just being allowed to play at the country
club was worth the effort to add a few strokes to my game to stay in the
loser's bracket. One of the few times I
had a chance to shine was on a best ball tournament, when my father-in-law said
we were teaming up. I shot a 71 on that
day and made us the course winners. Ten
shots better than I usually played with the old man, I said it was just a lucky
day.

Possibly the only connection I had with my father-in-law was
our appreciation for old baseball cards.
His recollection was far more extensive than my own, a period when
collecting baseball cards was at its glory, a nickel a pack and a boyhood
memory of living a Christmas moment every day when you could afford that single
pack of Topps' cards, praying that one of those cards was a Hank Aaron, Pete
Rose, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, or any other of the greats.
The losers were attached to their bicycle
spokes. Yes, the old coot and I would
ramble on about the value of certain players and how the new companies of
baseball cards have ruined the pride of collecting.

Only my middle
son, Kyle, took up my fascination for baseball cards.
He knew the value of pre-1975 cards, the
adrenaline rush of touching a piece of cardboard from the past with real value
that it had escaped a mother's rush to toss in the trash, or minimizing a boy's
memory by proclaiming that baseball cards were a childhood hobby that was best
left aside when more mature hobbies should take place.
It's what Kyle and I found as our bond,
knowing little that another mutual attraction would bind us forever beyond
father and son. Maybe I should have
picked up subtle hints when, as a twelve year old, he once told me that he
watched golf on television because he had a crush on Ricky Fowler, and that
Mike Trout with the Angels was a baseball card he had on his pillow for nights
on end. Subconsciously, I began buying
him bygone, handsome baseball players from the counter at the card store.
Ewell Blackwell might have been pushing it,
but Herb Score lit up Kyle's eyes.

Thus, you have the family tree with its interesting roots,
branches, and odd leaves. They were in
fact strangers I found out. This flourishing part of nature might not have ever
witnessed a gust of wind had it not been for a recession and adolescent angst
over sexual image. If there is an
interesting sidebar, I watched it coming in a surreal fascination, as if
nostalgia had revisited my subdued conscious to remind me that, what goes around
comes around.

Chapter Two

With two
paychecks our family lived well enough to afford the luxuries of life and the
expectations of a father-in-law. Lucy
had ten years of tenure at the local elementary school.
Tenure does not exist at the National Cash
Register Company. To soften the impact
on my delicate pride, I would like to say I was laid off.
The truth being, I was fired as a means to
scale down the overage of executive privilege.

It was, at first,
a pleasant experience being unemployed with enormous time on my hands, while
our six children didn't have to worry about being laid off from the demands of
education. Such boredom and idle time
allowed me to dabble in Internet temptations to snooping through my children's
rooms.

Only one discovery was forthcoming, and
then it wasn't a complete surprise.
Under the mattress of my twin's bed, the male one, there were two books
by the same author, Alan Stroup: THE
HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES and THE ART OF
LOYALTY. Neither title distinguished
the genre that would raise an eyebrow of a parent.
My quick perusal did nothing but create my
own interest in what it would be like to be an orphan.
I had to wonder why Kyle would find such a
dilemma interesting. Three times I came
back to these books, to sit and read on my son's bunk bed that he shared with
his oldest brother, Keith, who found the bottom bunk claustrophobic and had no
hesitation in saying he didn't want to look up and see Kyle's faggy butt.
The brothers were a contrast, Kyle's bedspread
a Cincinnati Reds collage, while Keith had a mundane taste of dull green that
even the Green Bay Packers would find disturbing.

What started as a
few minutes of reading turned into two hours.
Within a few chapters the obvious helped me fill in the blanks of my
son's interest. After finishing the first book and halfway through the second—there
was no denying the truth--both books had gay characters.
At one point I'd caught up to one of Kyle's
earliest bookmarks and discovered the page splattered with coconut oil.
I checked the waste basket next to his bed
and saw numerous wads of tissue. A quick
smell verified my son's predisposition to certain pages.
It wasn't the first time that a page had wet
markings, so I used my trip to the store to purchase a tube of KY Jelly to
replace his mother's bottle of lotion that had kept puzzling her as to where
she had placed it. To be discreet I
mentioned to my son that I'd noticed his heels becoming calloused with his
occasional tennis matches after school.
Kyle gave me this curious expression, checked his feet, which were as
soft as any swimmer's, but accepted the lube when other things apparently
clicked in his mind.

The following
day I'd excitedly looked forward to my reading time and sharing my son's
fascination. No one had told me it was a
half day at school, so when I heard the front door burst open and my children
chatting with exuberance, I hastily closed the book and saw Kyle's bookmark
drop on the floor. Hardly a time to find
its proper placement, I tossed the book under the mattress and exited just in
time to witness my sons racing up the steps.

Throughout the
afternoon I waited for an opportunity to replace the bookmark.
Usually neither my wife nor I intruded on our
children's rooms, so the risks of being seen outweighed the periodic
opportunities.

By evening I was
beginning to panic. Certainly Kyle would
know that someone had violated his space.
He would accuse Keith, which would start a squabble of monumental
proportions, at which time one of his parents would have to separate the
two. Not something I was looking forward
to.At ten o'clock I saw our eldest
traipse down the hallway to take his shower, a common occurrence for a teenager
who had to share his bedroom with someone he wasn't really affectionate to.

I waited five
minutes until I heard the shower on and Keith was well entrenched.
With the boys' bedroom door ajar and darkness
permeating the interior I figured Kyle was already asleep.
This was a good sign that he hadn't decided
to read.

It was the
combination of covers drooping over the top bunk and Kyle's raised knee
blocking his mini flashlight that created a false sense of security to my
presence. I walked right into view of a
fourteen-year old in the throes of ejaculation. If his eyes hadn't been closed
I would have never been able to approach this close.
In one hand was his penis; the other held a
small photo that had supplied the stimulus.
In that split second I made a move to retreat, only to step on an open
tube of gel that went splat on this wooden floor.

Kyle's eyes shot
open, the photo flipped to the floor, a white sheet exploded upward like a
parachute, and startled shrieks came from both our mouths.

"I'm sorry,
son, I just came in because I found this bookmark on the floor," I said
with the fastest speech of my life. I
reached down to pull this crushed tube from under my toes and, at the same
time, slide that picture back underneath his sheet.
The timing was a nightmare.

"What's going
on?" Keith asked as he entered in his pajama bottoms.

I darted my hand
backwards. "I had something of your
brother's."

There are times
in life when slow motion just kicks in, but this was life accelerated.
Keith saw my hand come from underneath the
sheet, and his words surprised me.

"I know that
smell. Why are you jacking off my
brother?" Keith grabbed his
brother's sheet and tossed it back to reveal Kyle's nakedness. It didn't help
that his chest was coated with white liquid and his fingers were still wrapped
around an erection.

"Excuse
me? I was hardly masturbating your
brother. I am as surprised as you
are," I said while pushing off my one knee and, for possibly the first
time, I realized that Keith was three inches taller than I was.I wished I hadn't said it in such a way to
put Kyle on trial. My eldest glanced at
my hand.

"Your
fingers are coated with gel. What am I
supposed to think when I see your hand come flying from underneath his
covers? God, Dad, at least fess up to
the obvious."

This was too
unreal. I picked the leftover tube of
crushed KY from the floor and decided not to explain myself to this
interrogator for a son. Instead I ripped
the covers from Keith's hand to allow his brother some privacy.

"I'll buy
you another," I said holding up the tube and with the recognition that
this debate had a third party, a boy who was crying from the embarrassment.

Keith postured
himself with supreme arrogance that he had something on his father.
"You bought my queer brother an ointment
to jack off with? Now I've heard
everything. I realize you and Mom are
having some difficulties, but, come on, your own son?"

"Watch your
mouth, Keith!" I exploded in anger at this accusation, but then Kyle
stopped my tirade.

"Fuck off,
Keith! Dad didn't do anything!
You're such an asshole!"
He swung out of that bed to march directly
from the bedroom and down the hall without a stitch of clothes on.
That was definitely a first for this family.

It had been years
since I'd seen any of my sons in less than their underwear.
In this family, modesty was a given and
likely a sin to be caught in anything less revealing than swim wear.
To actually say a swear word in your parents'
presence was unheard of. In a matter of
minutes a major breakthrough had fractured this family's moral stability.

"Get your
faggot ass out of my bedroom and don't come back!" Keith vented to the
departing nakedness of his brother. He
then glanced back at me. "Dad, you
better leave, as well." Keith said
it with such a smug demeanor I wanted to laugh, but I found myself like a child
wanting to explain.

"I will
leave when I'm good and ready. I'm going
to change these sheets and ask if Kory wouldn't mind sleeping here until we can
come to some rationale behavior between you two."

"It would
help if you'd stay out of our room to begin with," Keith replied.

I will have to
admit that my relationship with my sons had been distant.
Keith and Cynthia might as well be their
mother's and no one else's. To be talked
to like this by one of my children was both shocking and embarrassing.
I certainly didn't wish to explain myself to
someone who had a very wrong impression.
My anger could have been no less than to a stranger, finding that I
truly resented this kid in front of me for those few seconds.

"Get in bed
before I put you there myself! I've had
enough of your rudeness and insinuations," I said with more bravado than
I'd used for years.

Fortunately he
complied. I removed the soiled sheets
from Kyle's bed, wiped the floor of a slimy gel, and took a good look at a
school photo of a boy in a Speedo. I
didn't know this boy called Rodney Miller, but he appeared a year or two
younger than Kyle, a half-foot shorter, but outrageously cute.
I shoved it in the waist of my pajamas and
departed the room.

Content that
Kyle's bed had been prepared for Kory's satisfaction, I went in search of Kyle
to apologize and balance a world that had turned topsy-turvy for a young
teenager. I found Kory and Kit fast
asleep, which means they hadn't been disturbed by our voices.
There was no sign of Kyle in any room of the
house.

Out of a mere
curiosity I checked the garage when I heard a faint sound that wasn't the
refrigerator. The odor was almost
overwhelming of carbon monoxide, with my vehicle humming in its temporary
parked position with the garage door closed.
My finger on the button to open the garage had never been faster, in
addition to flicking on the garage light.
Three quick steps to the driver's side and I saw Kyle slumped over the
steering wheel. The boy had even locked
the car door.

To my right were
bolt cutters and these I hurriedly used to shatter the driver's side window to
where I could unlock the door and drag my unconscious son out onto the
driveway. It was all pure reaction, a
desperation that no one can fully understand unless they have had someone so
close literally die in your arms. My
hands shook and I wanted to scream to God that this could not be real.
In the moon's dim light, Kyle showed no life;
his breathing had expired. Out of pure
adrenaline I shoved open his mouth and began to give him puffs of air.

"Oh no you
don't!" I shouted between my gasps for air.
Tears came to my eyes that this couldn't be
happening to me, not this family of perfect church-going children.
What felt like minutes, my son coughed once,
then twice. I had breathed life back
into his lungs. A quick dash to shut off
the car, when a neighbor was at the base of my driveway.

"Anything
wrong, Brad?" he asked, as if seeing a naked fourteen year old laying on
concrete was normal.

"Call the
paramedics, Bill," I said with more calm than I felt inside.

I didn't know
when to stop or if I should, as I held my son in my arms and rocked him back
and forth. My slaps to Kyle's face did
nothing to arouse his sleep, but then the sirens had more comfort than the
deadly silence of this late hour.

A fire truck
arrived first, then the paramedics.
Lights went on in all the surrounding houses, before neighbors began to
open front doors or their darkened images appeared through swept back
drapes. Lucy was the first family member
to appear from the house, her white sheer nightie fluttering in her haste.
She was near hysterics on why her son was
naked on the driveway. The timing of the
first paramedic allowed me to hastily explain what had happened as I rested
Kyle over my bent knee. No more had a
paramedic moved my son on a gurney then I grabbed my wife to assure her that
our son was breathing and would probably be okay.

Within minutes I
was following the paramedics to the hospital in a car that still smelled of
death, a stay of six hours before they would allow me to bring my son
home. My wife would call me twice from
the hospital to check on Kyle's progress.
During the second conversation I knew that our eldest had revealed the
underlying truth.

"Keith says
that Kyle is a homosexual," she said and left it hanging.

"That's not
the end of the world, my dear. Whether
he is or not, we have to support him."

There was the
standard hesitation that my wife was so good at in her ponderous thought that
was rarely supportive. "We'll have
to get him into reparative therapy. Our
pastor will know just the place."

I controlled my
temper, as usual. "Lucy, our son
has just attempted to kill himself and all you can think about is fixing
him."

"Do you
blame him, Brad? God, what kid wants to
grow up to be a queer? Get real
here."

"Now I know
where our eldest picks up his judgmental attitude toward those who don't fit
their expectations of normal."

"It's
better that Kyle confronts this now, rather than go through life being called
worse names than queer."

"Is that
why you're not here?" I asked and hung up.

When I was
allowed in my son's room he burst into tears again when he saw me.
Kyle was like a rag doll in my arms, a
teenager who felt worthless and just knew he was the pariah of the family. I
hugged him for minutes. His apology
wasn't necessary, but mine was. Only at
that moment did I realize the distant relationship I'd had with my family, the
lack of trust from a child that he couldn't tell his father anything about his
personal life or what his loves were. I
was destined to change this distant relationship at that very second. The only
words I said were the most needed—I love you with all my heart.

Though I checked
out of the hospital with Kyle around six o'clock in the morning, I decided not
to go directly home to face the scrutiny of his siblings.
With the clothes I had brought him from home,
he was adequately dressed to go to a restaurant for breakfast.
This would allow everyone to go to school
before Kyle arrived home.

Though he said
he wasn't hungry, I still bought him his favorite pancake breakfast.
My eyes wouldn't leave this precious boy,
like God had given me a second chance to be a friend and a father to him.
Every time he glanced up I told him how much
I loved him. He smiled.

"The nurse
told me what you did, Dad. Thanks,"
he said with a face that longed for me to hold him again.
Though I wanted to whirl around that booth to
do just that, a fourteen-year old has his boundaries in public.

I made the mistake
of addressing this issue of sexual orientation before he had established that
he was hungrier than he thought. I
passed him the picture of the boy in the swimsuit.

"I believe
this is yours. He's very handsome,"
I said.

The tears
started slowly, then the fork was dropped on the plate.
Instantly I regretted the approach.
"Son, I know.
It's no big deal."

"Easy for
you to say," he blurted out and the sobbing became even more
pronounced. His embarrassment might have
been worse if there were other teenagers in the restaurant.
I'm glad there were just adults.

I finally did
move around the booth and sat next to him, to put my arm around his shoulders,
to tell him I felt his pain. He sobbed
on my shoulder. The truth being, I
couldn't remember the last time I hugged any of my sons.
Maybe when Kit was ten, he hugged me over a
Christmas present he had received from his mother and me.

I guarded my
words closely. "One of these days
I'd like to ask God why he didn't discuss with us before we were born on what
we wanted out of life. You know, like
being left-handed with blue eyes and blond hair.
It doesn't work that way, so God knows we'll
each be different in unique ways. Does
that mean that being gay is wrong? Not
hardly. You can love someone of your own
sex just as much as someone who is the opposite."

Kyle moved his
head up to give me this strange look that I wasn't prosecuting him.
"Our church thinks I'm evil," he
said.

For a boy to say
that about his own religion really crushed my heart.
"I think that any church who lays
judgment on another is speaking from ignorance.
We don't need the Mormon religion, they need us."

"Mom will
disown me," was his second fear.

"She has much to learn about tolerance
and people different than herself. You
have your father as your support."

The squeeze meant
I had said something right; plus, he took a few more bites of food.
I thought this was a good time to reveal a
secret I thought I'd never tell.

"Kyle, when
your father was fifteen I was nearly caught by my sister while I was having sex
with a close friend. By accident one of
us left our underwear in the living room when we scrambled in opposite
directions, since we were both naked and aroused.
That night I was interrogated by your
grandmother on my intentions. I denied
everything."

My son swung his
head up, a sort of pleased but disappointed look.
"Yeah, but that was with a girl,"
Kyle assumed.

"No.
Actually it was with a boy I had an amazing
crush on. The boy never came to my house
again, though I still feel a love for him that I'll never forget.
Bad timing?
Yeah, and one I'll never forgive my sister for coming home early.
I don't have to tell you what it feels like
to be a teenager and think that no one will value you for who you really
are."

Kyle perked up
with a delightful chuckle. "But,
Dad, you married Mom! You're not
gay."

I paused.
"Kyle, my boy, maybe it's time we both accept
who we are and what we need from life."
I knew I was being more honest with myself than with my son.
He never let go of my arm for the rest of
that meal.

Chapter Three

There are words in
life that one easily regrets saying. In
those few seconds I thought I had made a mistake in disclosing something so
personal to someone so young. It's one
thing to think of yourself as gay, quite another to realize that your own
father thinks himself as gay. Silence
prevailed and we wouldn't speak for the next twenty minutes until we had
arrived home to the absence of family. I
kept glancing over to my son, a calm serenity possessed his countenance.

A young teenager
doesn't realize that they can't believe everything they think.
This idea of being gay might be a passing
fancy, a mere crush on a boy that will turn into a practiced behavior for a
future female. For me, I knew what being
gay meant, the anger and passion that goes with an attraction that doesn't pass
with age. The longing to see a boy, his
every move, his every breath a hi-light to my day, and then finally to disrobe
this god-like creature and visualize a hard-on that must mean a mutual
attraction. I had all of that at
fifteen, minus enough minutes to fully express the chemistry of desire and lust
my mind and body needed.To purge these
hidden thoughts to a fourteen-year old, let alone my own son, were held in
reservation.

When we arrived
home I sent him to the shower with instructions.
"If I see this door closed I will personally
break it down." Kyle smiled with my
threat.

I checked to see if there were any razors or
sharp objects, and then left to change mattresses from Kory's bed with that of
Kyle's. Upon returning to the bath area,
my son was drying off. I tossed him a
pair of his pajama bottoms, a more worn out pair of rags I hadn't witnessed
before. The fly had no button and the
back seat was loose enough to drape over half his rear.
His once modesty was gone, and he seemed to
want to tease me with his lackadaisical means of dressing.

I walked him to
his old bedroom, by his choosing. I told
him he needed a day's rest; something we both desired from a bizarre
night.

"Rest with
me, Dad," Kyle said as his first words since I shocked his sensibilities
of his father.

I thought about
this because I had certainly planned on catching a few winks.
Off with my pants and shirt I rested beside
my son, who had flopped to his stomach to reveal a bare back and a few inches
of a swimmer's butt. He was my boy, my
flesh and blood. I turned on my side to stroke my son's back with casual
touches, a caress I hadn't done since the boys were tots.
He purred to my touch as my fingers glided
down his spine and over the upper gluteus that was visible above the loose
garment.

"That
feels good," Kyle mumbled from his head buried deep in the pillow.
A tickle up his crack had his butt cheeks
tighten, but then his hand whipped backward to pull his pajamas lower.
To sexualize my son wasn't in my plan, but this
was a boy who had attempted to kill himself only hours before.
What kind of message was I sending him, or
was this the love he needed, to be accepted and treated as a lovable creature?
Eyeing this amazingly gorgeous butt had me hard in seconds. A tremendous guilt
swept over me that I'd actually got a hard-on next to my son.

My eyes gravitated
upward to view pictures on his wall. Why
hadn't I taken notice of all this before?
A boy skateboarder named Ryan Schecker was the centerpiece, a clean cut
teenager who any gay boy would fall head over heels for.

When I sensed
Kyle was asleep I covered his nudity, laid down on my back to contemplate this
near loss of a child I loved so much. An
arm swept over my chest, then a kiss to my cheek.

"I love you,
Dad," Kyle said and snuggled his head into the nape of my neck.
The smell of a fourteen-year old boy I had
never really known heightened my throbbing arousal as if I was that fifteen-year
old teenager again infatuated with another boy.

With my left arm I held him close until I
heard the soft murmurs of sleep. I now
had no regret to my disclosure. Five
hours later I awoke in the same position and Kyle hadn't moved one inch.
His left leg had swept over my groin, a knee
that covered my erection in sleep.
Slowly I rolled my son on his back and saw the tent below the
sheet. I peeked under the blanket and
saw this stiff woody free of the loose garment.
It was an unacceptable voyeurism into my son's sex, so I thought.
My heart speeded up with a pulse that had
never surfaced in my entire marriage. His giggle had me lower the cover
quickly.

"Hey,
you're supposed to be asleep," I said and kissed him lightly on the nose.

"Sleep with
me longer," he pleaded and proceeded to huddle me closer, groin to groin,
which meant erection to erection. His
pre-come wetness was felt on my bellybutton.
My mind spun as he pressed into me with a soft
sigh.

I panicked.
"I have to fix us lunch, kiddo, so sleep
until you feel rested before you come downstairs.
You're way too randy when you wake up."

"What does
randy mean?" he asked without relinquishing his press against my groin.

"That
missile between your legs is saying it all."

"Well, you have one too," Kyle said
with the softness that he knew me better than anyone now.

"I hadn't
noticed," I lied and managed to slide out of bed away from my way too
amorous son. As I started away he called
my name and told me to turn sideways. He
laughed at my less than recovered sex, a large wet spot at its tip.

"It's
often like that when I wake up," I said on departure. That didn't exactly
explain the wet spot, but the boy had me flustered. He even laughed to my
obvious explanation.

This was no time to ridicule or find
fault. There was a euphoria of freedom I
felt when I left the boys' room with a swinging dick. In a way I was extremely
happy on the way to the kitchen to make us lunch.

A few swipes of
cheese over bread and two grilled cheese sandwiches were on the oven.
In came my son, sauntering like a model in
pose down the runway. When I turned to
see him, his penis was well exposed in these loose pajamas.
I had obviously picked the oldest pair he had
and no doubt one he had long outgrown.
Kyle didn't miss a beat and noticed that my eyes had stayed on his
exposed sex for a second too long. He
gave me his best pleased look, like a realization that his penis was a power
that he knew a parent now appreciated.

To put a little
life in a scene more fitting for an erotic movie, I switched on the kitchen IPod.
YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO NEW by the Stylistics
blared through the speakers. The music
took a few seconds to register, but as I turned to pour us both a glass of
milk, Kyle's face was a few inches from my own.
He had this longing expression that I hadn't seen since his mother
couldn't get enough of me the first year of marriage.
That has since changed, the longing, that
is. 'Lord help me out here,' I whispered
to myself.

I hugged
him. "I thought I lost you last
night. Now I'm holding you in my
arms. God has blessed me."

Kyle didn't let
go. We stayed like that, two lost souls who had discovered each other after
fourteen years of living under the same roof.

"Hey! I don't want
our sandwiches to burn," I told him.

Kyle released
and let me continue being this cook that I'm not really good at doing. I
flopped his grilled cheese on his plate and watched my son approach me again
and wrap his arms around me with several kisses to my face.

"I love
you, Dad."

All of this was
going way too fast, but I kept saying to myself, 'Slow down, don't reject
him.'I had to humor the moment.
"I love you, too, but people will tell
me I'm too old for you."

Surprisingly he
didn't laugh but moved his face away from mine with his same hold in
place. "When I'm on the Internet
dating services, men and women are always looking for younger people."

"You're
trying to get a date on the Internet?" I asked in panic.

He finally smiled.
"Of course not.
I just find it interesting to see the
pictures and what kinky things people will do.
But, Dad, did you know that we all came from twenty-two women, and they
say in every family there's been incest."

My mind was
doing a mathematical equation on exactly what he meant by all that.
"Um, but see, Kyle, parents and their
children usually don't make a great mix."

"I'm not a
child, Dad, and I owe you my life. I can
love someone older. I love you."

I sat my son
down so we wouldn't jump to conclusions here.
"Yes, of course, but love is so much fun when you experiment with
someone your own age." That came
out really well.

"Not really,
Dad. We should each learn from someone
older and wiser, more experienced so we know what we're doing.
I read that a Greek philosopher said
that."

"They did
kinky things in Greece," I admitted.
"Let's eat first and talk about Rodney.
Are you in love with him?"

"Rodney is
gay like me and really hot, but I can't go to his house because he's afraid of
his parents getting suspicious. Mom
would totally freak out if she knew, and there's never any privacy with all my
brothers and sisters around here. So,
you see, all we've ever done is kiss and grabbed a quick fondle in the locker
room."

"Yes, a
quick fondle. I should have been so
lucky. Actually I was, but I had more in
mind."

Kyle laughed, but
that's when Michael Jackson's THRILLER came on.
My son bounced over for more open space and began to dance--I mean,
really dance. His pajamas hid nothing,
but they also weren't designed anymore to stay on the hips.
In seconds my son had stepped out of these
and showed me far more talent than I ever knew he possessed.
All I could do was smile and sweat that no
one would come home. Another startling
revelation, my boy was not only gay, but knew how to dance like a live Michael
Jackson. My eyes drank up his blossoming
body; the nectar of his slim waist, long limbs, lushness of narrow hips and
bouncing genitals had saliva coating my tongue.
I clapped and quickly had a fourteen-year old in my lap.

"You're the
best dad ever," he told me with a kiss real close to the lips--actually,
it was right on target.

My mind told me
not to reject, as this was a sensitive time in recovery of a near suicide.
I didn't know this son.
A day before we were all but strangers.
Now he wants to show me he can dance, and do
it in the nude! I can to a conclusion
that he might even be delirious from the trauma.
I patted Kyle on the butt and told him I had
better get the house in shape before his mother arrived home.
Kyle volunteered to help, but only after I
made him promise to do it with clothes on.

A detour back to
Kyle's prior bedroom and my goal was to retrieve the two books under the
mattress. Instead I found them in the
trash where I'm sure his brother put them.
I took the time to remove his favorite pictures from the wall, knowing
he'd want to put them up in his new room.
I remade the bed and removed any tale-tale signs of anyone sleeping in
it. Assured that the room looked
spotless I adjourned to the other boys' bedroom.
I had the good intention of wanting to slide
the books under his new mattress. There
was Kyle laying on the bottom bunk in full masturbatory pleasure, and he didn't
bother covering up this time.

"Obviously
you're feeling much better," I said and tried not to look at his blatant
exhibitionism while I shoved the books under the mattress.
I handed him two tissues, kissed him on the
forehead and left. I knew in the past
sixteen hours a father and son relationship had done a full one-eighty with a
new role that had me shaken.I had the
suspicion that my son thought of my new role as something other than a father.

I was like a
hummingbird in an attempt to clean the house.
`Distract your mind!' I kept telling myself.
In minutes, probably thanks to an
ejaculation, Kyle help me. He even had
shorts on. We were progressing to
normalcy.

The family
gathered for dinner with no less tension than a verdict at a murder trial.
I hoped that someone would talk about school
or their sport activity for the day.
Leave it to my wife.

"Kyle, do
you have something to tell the family?" she asked.
I sighed with discontent at her drawing
attention to this twin.

Kyle looked up
and I was afraid he was going to cry.
Instead he took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry for the
disruption. Guess everyone should know I'm gay."
He resumed eating.

Lucy looked at
me like that answer was totally inappropriate.
I scanned the family and gave my point of view.
"Now that that is settled, let's
continue with our meal."

"It's not
settled at all," the missus intervened.
"This family has been impacted by our son's decision and we need to
resolve this problem before it gets any more serious.
We almost lost a son."

"Problem? More serious?
What does that all mean?" I asked.
"Is being heterosexual a problem?
Our son has an attraction to his own
sex. It's not a problem unless one makes
it so."

Our children
began moving their heads back and forth in this ping pong conversation.
The lines had been drawn and the rally
continued. Lucy quietly placed her fork
by her plate. "Our church does not
condone this type of behavior, nor should this family.
I recommend that Kyle start therapy
immediately."

"So he can
become disillusioned with someone trying to change something they can't?!
You'll end up making him a basket case.
My pup is not being thrown to a den of
wolves."

Kyle smiled and
Kit laughed.

"This is not
funny," their mother scolded them with a stern look that had kept her
fourth grade class as disciplined as a military school.
"As a family we need to take a
stand. Those who feel this behavior is
wrong, raise their hand."

I figured if she
went democratic on us we were in trouble.
Cynthia, Keith, Katy, and their mother shot their hands in the air.
I waited for Kory's to follow.
He stood by his guns and never flinched.
Kit started to raise his hand, glanced at his
mother and then me. A look at Kyle and
his brother didn't plead or show any emotion.
I have no idea what went through Kit's mind but he kept his arm down. It
was now four against four. My wife was
like a scorned witch. If Kit had been a
student in his mother's classroom at that very second he would have found his
nose up against a corner. She dismissed us as if we had sided with the devil
and resumed her eating. For the time
being we had a draw on the battlefield.

Reluctant to enter the bedroom until she went
to sleep at her usual nine o'clock departure, I casually roamed the hallway and
wanted to make sure that Kory was okay in his new sleeping arrangement.
I'd almost entered their room when I heard
Keith snarl at his brother.

"If I feel
one rocking of this bed I'm going to kick your ass," he barked.

I was a second
from moving in to defend a younger brother and come to blows with a son who had
grown too big for his pants.

Kory's higher
pitched voice stopped my entrance.
"If you lay one hand on me, don't ever plan on going to sleep
because I will get even. You're wake up
with twenty-six less teeth and a titanium bat sticking in your mouth,"
Kory warned and I was damn proud of the kid.
Not another word was said so I departed.

One check on
Kyle and Kit had a new surprise. Their
bunk bed had been dismantled and they both were sleeping on ground level, but
three feet apart.

"We like it
better this way," Kyle said without explanation.
"Dad, will you read to us before you
leave?"

Kit nodded and
wanted the same thing.

"I don't
have a book handy," I said.

Kyle tossed me THE ART OF LOYALTY.
I gave him this expression that his brother
might not appreciate it. Kyle gave me a
thumbs up. A half-hour of reading
through some very sensual passages when I mentioned it was nearly ten, so
lights off. As I kissed both boys, Kyle
wanted his back rubbed. There was the
absence of pajamas again, but I did manage to put him to sleep after ten
minutes of soothing fingers. I assumed
this tactic was a way to impress his brother that dad was on his side.

"Dad, rub my
back," Kit whispered before I left.

I jumped beds and
gave him another ten minutes until I thought he was in deep slumber.
A quick jump to his knees and Kit gave me a
mighty hug. "Thanks for being so
cool with Kyle, Dad."

I covered him up
with another peck to the forehead. My
role as father had taken on a love I never knew existed for such precious souls.
The most interesting perspective in all this
was why it had taken me eighteen years to do this.

I whispered in his
ear, "Keep an eye on him for me."

Kit shot his eyes
open. "Sure, Dad, I'll be his
protector when you're not around."
I thought that was so cute.

A week earlier I
was foolishly convinced we were the quintessential Mormon family.
A gay boy in our midst had created a quasi,
civil war that had separated the family into equal factions.
When I crawled in bed that night you could
have cut the tension with a knife.

Saturday night
dinner had my wife suggesting that Kyle meet with President Thierian in church
the next morning.

"I'm not
going to church," Kyle simply blurted out.
Every eye turned to this near fifteen-year old.

"That's not
an option," his mother told him.

I cleared my
voice. "My dear, we have told our
children that church was of their own decision, a decision made between them
and their commitment to God. Obviously,
our son doesn't see the church advocating for him at this time.
I personally think we should respect his
decision."

"So do
I," Kit spoke up.

"I'm with
those two," Kory added.

Their mother
stood up, threw down her napkin and stormed out.
Two daughters and one male teenager, who
couldn't think for himself, joined their mother.
I told the boys to eat up because there was
plenty of food left. They laughed in
agreement.

I had avoided the
boys' room for the previous two evenings.
Kyle was either sexualizing his father or testing my resolve.
I sort of knew the answer and didn't want to
test the waters. Checking in I saw that
their beds were now separated by a blow up football dummy that acted as a
pajama rack for discarded sleeping apparel.

"Read to us,
Dad," Kyle quickly suggested.

I caved in and
saw Kit quickly toss the inflatable five-foot doll out from the middle of their
beds to slide them together. He swung
out of bed stark naked and pushed the beds together.
Whatever had happened between these two
brothers had changed my youngest son into a nudist.
He was close to turning thirteen and signs of
puberty were quite apparent with sporadic brown hair above his penis.
I sat in the middle of my sons and had both
their heads on each shoulder.

After an erotic
chapter of a fifteen-year old getting an erection by seeing an older man's
muscular chest, I asked Kit if he was okay with all this.
Kyle pinched me on the arm and whispered in
my ear. "My brother is gay."

Immediately I knew this was Kit's way to side
with an older sibling he respected. Gays
just don't come two to a family. I let
this be.

"Sleep with
us, Dad," Kit commented without making it a question.

"I'm not
sure your mother would find that acceptable," I said.

"She's already
asleep. You can get up in the wee hours
and she won't know the difference," Kyle suggested.

I relented,
knowing I'd allow them to fall asleep before I slipped out.
Both boys waited until I had tossed my robe
to the floor and then snuggled in close.
I turned out the lights and felt Kyle's hands pull down my boxers with a
profound order.

"You have to
be like us," he told me.

I felt them each partially slide their bodies
next to mine, knowing they expected back rubs.
Trouble was, they had planned this carefully and were returning this
finger drawing on my chest, often times dipping to much lower extremes.
My immediate thought was that Kyle had
disclosed his father's predilection to males.

"Be careful,"
I warned only to receive giggles.

Boundaries
finally drawn, they didn't exactly touch my penis. Inside my thighs they wait
with anticipation. Up it sprang to their satisfaction. I suppose I could have
said that we shouldn't be examining each other's erections, but a father is a
boy's masculine ideal. They had achieved the arousal they wanted and compared
their own to mine. Kit examined his as a
comparison to his brother. Two inches shorter but another six months and they'd
be the same, I informed. For the time
being I was the stud.

Thankfully there
was no suggestion of masturbation. We huddled closely and I suggested
sleep. Wouldn't you know it, I fell
asleep as well with my sons' head cradled on my chest.

I woke up near
sunrise with Kyle cradled like a spoon in my lap, and Kit had his arm wrapped
around my waist, with his own body pressed into my back.
I was just glad I woke up before someone
discovered this threesome.

Dressed and
sitting at the foot of their bed I had a few moments of pensive thought on how
close I had come to two sons I'd barely known through their youth.
I could not be their buddy, per se, I told
myself, though their self-confidence, if not maturity, had jumped leaps and
bounds in the past few days.

Already up with her cup of coffee in hand,
my wife did not question where I slept, she simply went for the jugular.

"I'm assuming you
slept in one of our son's beds. That hardly demonstrates a parental distance.
I'm sure they would appreciate having their
bed back." She was far more civil than I expected.

I was glad she
didn't say with my son, but I decided an explanation was in order. "I forgot
what it was like to read to our children. Something we both did when they were
younger. I was thrilled when the boys asked me to read to them. I fell asleep."

"They're
quite capable of reading themselves.
They're playing you for a sucker. Who can blame them?
Listen, Brad, you don't have to worry that I
don't want us sleeping in the same room.
You and I obviously differ on this problem,
but I have no doubt our sons will see their error and realize that their faith
is the truth here. My father thinks
you're being irrational, foolish, and supporting a lifestyle that has nothing
but heartaches ahead. I don't always
agree to his standard assessment that you're a loser, so let's just hope that
your sons don't come to that same conclusion."

Her words were a
way of insulting me without direct confrontation and insinuating that our
daughters already thought of me as a fool.

"Your father
has always felt that way, regardless of the issue.
This just gives him an opportunity to express
his disdain that you didn't marry into blue blood.
As for our sons, I want their decisions to be
based on logic, common sense and empathy, not on religious dogma because
someone thinks that God loves some people more than others."

"Play the
fiddler for three sons and see how long they follow your lead.
Even at their age they can see it's a dead
end."

I held my tongue and proceeded to watch this
split family slowly gather and eat breakfast in dreaded silence.
While the four church goers departed, my
other three sons waited patiently for my instruction.

"Okay, get
dressed in casual shirts and shorts and meet me in the car," I said.

We drove to the
mall where I instructed the boys to pick out a kite of their choice.
They each had to write a prayer and attach it
to the bow, before adding something that they loved about themselves along the
tail of the kite. At first this puzzled
them, but they were soon enjoying this challenge.

Below the
hillside where Charles Kettering had once resided, we used this massive field
to elevate our kites into the warm breeze of that beautiful Sunday morning.
Just the majestic backdrop of blue skies and
floating drops of white clouds had each of us thinking we were communicating
with God in our own special way. No one
asked what the other had prayed for, but our loves were readily available for
those with good eyes.

Seeing Kyle's kite
tail brought tears to my eyes: THANK YOU LORD FOR LETTING ME LIVE.
Kit's kite had a simple: I LOVE MY BROTHERS,
and Kory's had written on his six-foot, blue tail, THANKS DAD FOR BEING THERE
FOR KYLE. I had a statement that was
more personal: I LOVE BEING A FATHER.

This energetic
morning of sharing and running to and fro with our kites was a blessing in
disguise. I'd never known such joy
during my entire marriage of those precious two hours with three of my
sons. When Kyle and Kit whipped their
shirts off, Kory didn't hesitate. Leave
it to a twelve-year old to drop his shorts and run naked across this massive
acreage of green grass.

Kory was sure his
brother had gone bonkers in total rebellion against his upbringing.
He expected me to admonish this behavior and
question Kit's morality for being so blatant.
Once I started to laugh, Kyle encouraged his younger brother that much
more. As a means to express this new
him, he lowered his shorts and underwear and joined Kit in racing their kites
in absolute abandon.

"Dad?"
Kory questioned my eyesight. "Mom
would kill us."

"Mothers
often don't think outside the box, Kory.
Your physical form is a gift from God, so don't be ashamed of your beauty.
I'm not telling, if that's your concern.
I brought you three boys here to feel good
about yourself and express a love for nature we rarely have time for. Just be
yourself."

Kory thought
about my attitude, a father that was far different than the one he had come to
know for his first fourteen years. He
sat and smiled at his brothers's nudity, their laughter and encouragement for
Kory to join them. After much thought
and cautious observance to make sure no one was looking, this budding athlete
of the family succumbed to his brothers' pressure and fell into splendor by
showing he was as male as they were. I
should have known they would want me to join them.

"At your
age, boys, you're just having fun. I
could get nailed for indecent exposure," I said sitting on a small bank on
the hillside with a long blade of green grass in my mouth.
They swarmed over me and had my shorts off in
less than a minute. It took five more
minutes of chase before I realized that teenagers were way too quick for their
father. My dash from one son to another, smacking their butts one by one had us
laughing to our hearts' content. With
laughter and pleading, I convinced everyone that we had beaten the odds of
discovery, except for the satellites above.
That had them eyeing the heavens with smiles.

In the car, Kit
was the first to admit, "This was the best Sunday morning ever!"

His brothers
agreed. Being in church was actually
quite safer, if they would have asked me--yet maybe more insane.

Chapter Four

There was quite a
contrast between family members during the rest of that Sunday.Three of my sons had a countenance of being
blessed, though the other four members of the family had no idea what that
blessing was.

While my other three
children had their sour faces of enduring a church service of bigotry and rules
for heaven hierarchy, my other three sons knew a secret that wasn't to be
revealed because it was their joy and pleasure not to be given to those who
didn't experience it. As a father, I can
be thankful for such loyalty, a loyalty that Kit and Kyle said they were
beginning to understand by the reading of a novel about loyalty.

Their mother
didn't appreciate the boys' smug faces at dinner, even accusing me of taking them
to an arcade or a waterslide. I assured
her that we had used the morning to be one with God in the great outdoors.
The boys nodded with appeased grins.
She then tried to ruin my day by saying that
this Mormon tribunal wished to meet with me.
I slipped one of Kit's favorite offerings.

"As if that's going to happen."

Lucy gave a
theatrical performance of crying. It was
her way of getting sympathy, which almost worked but for me seeing this act for
the thousandth time.

Kyle and Kit came
to me that evening and expressed their concern that Kory wanted to move in with
them. Kyle talked around the truth,
until I filled in the reluctance of agreeing to this.

"You're
afraid that Kory won't be as open and accepting with your sexual habits once he
moves in."

My sons nodded,
though I wasn't sure the involvement of Kit, but I was pretty sure that Kyle
had told him that they had a gay father.

"I think it's best that we sit down with
Kory and tell him the truth. He's not
one to panic and want to tell the world that he has a brother who
masturbates."

"Two
brothers," Kit reminded me.

"I want you
two to take this new sexual knowledge of each other carefully," I said to
both of them. They laughed which gave
that up.

We called in Kory
on the back patio near nightfall. In
lawn chairs I brought up the delicate subject.
"Kyle tells me that you'd like to move in with Kit and
himself. I'm sorry that I had you move
out of a bedroom you were most comfortable in."

"Keith's a
jerk," is all Kory said in fact.

"Yeah, and I
had to live with the creep for fourteen years," Kyle added to the subject
at hand.

I struggled for
wording. "Son, to my understanding,
you'd be moving in with two gay brothers. Twelve-year olds are only too willing
to be like a sibling they admire, so I'm not so sure you actually have two gay
bros. Given the fact that twelve-year
old girls aren't too willing to crawl into bed to enjoy a boy's hormones, it is
what it is."

Kory sprang his
eyesight to his youngest brother.
"You, too?"

Kit smiled.
"Sex isn't all that big of a deal."

"So," I
started again. "This isn't about
walking into an orgy, but you might not feel comfortable with, how does one
say? that much testosterone."

"Why should
I care that they act gay?" Kory asked.
"Kit has flashed me his boner since he was three and thinks
masturbation is an art form."

"You're an
expert at it," Kit sort of praised.

I intervened.
"Well, when boys realize that they like
the same thing, they're more open about their sexuality and don't feel that
they have to play with themselves under the blanket, if you get my drift."

"Or run to
the shower like Keith," Kyle added.
Everyone nodded but Kit, who hadn't been privy to this nightly ritual.

"I like to
jerk off," Kory admitted.
"What's the big deal?"

Kyle went right
to the facts of this arrangement.
"Kit and I have combined beds.
Mom doesn't know, but we like it."

The moment of
truth had arrived. Kory shrugged his
shoulders. "I don't care what you
two do."

"You say
that now, but people have a tendency to be envious when others are having fun
and they're left out."

Kory leaned
forward as if this was just between us four.
"Look, guys, I'm into girls, but that doesn't mean I'll reject a
little fun."

Kyle and Kit
absorbed this, smiled, and agreed to the move.
Twenty minutes later there were now three beds in one room.
Keith was more than happy that he finally had
a room to himself. Their mother thought
it created even more fracture in the family and wasn't the least happy about
it. Such is life.

The move would be
a positive one for me, I thought. The
straight boy would impose restrictions and their mother thought that being
around two "normal" brothers might help Kyle adjust back to hetero
heaven. She had no clue.

Not the best of
timing, the twins turned fifteen that Monday, followed by Kit's 13th, with
Kory's 14th another month away. The
family made an attempt to be unified.
Kyle appeared to wear the strain of the family's problems on his sleeve,
a big concern of mine that he would backslide.
His twin offered no support, immune of any empathy.
Possibly the twins should have shared their
uniqueness together, like bathing. Their
mother was always the puritan. This was
not the first sign that we had made mistakes in raising our children with
puritan values.

Kit loved the PSP
that I had bought him, a gift his mother had avoided for morality issues all these
years. My first visit to their room that
evening to kiss the birthday boy had him leap up on his bed, stark naked.

"Show Dad
your own birthday present," Kory said from his adjacent bed.

"I'm not sure
I can do it again," Kit replied and brought himself to an erection with
two fingers and a thumb. Two minutes
later, as I leaned against their door to make sure no one entered, Kit
ejaculated a teaspoon of clear liquid into his palm.
"I'm a stud," he declared to our
laughter.

They were taking
turns reading the novel, as I listened.
These three boys had established a rapport that was nonexistent for
fifteen years, an acceptance of trying to understand what it means to be a
teenager. I read for sixteen minutes,
which took us to the end of the story. A
huge discussion took place on the aspects of the book, a father's betrayal, a
boy's love for an older man, and the confidence issue in being able to defend
oneself. Its influence on their new
Japanese words was amazing. Their mother
and siblings thought it was a plot to drive them batty with this communication
of Japanese.

Kyle and Kit
appeared to have a new pride in their sexual sharing, though I still questioned
my youngest son's self-assessment of gay identity.

Though it was
their last week in school for the year, I enforced the ten o'clock curfew and
proceeded to tuck each boy in bed. Kyle
wrapped his arms around me and devoured my mouth.

"What was
that all about?" I asked rather overwhelmed by a too sensuous of a kiss.

"You had to
do the same thing to bring me back to life, the doctor said, so I'm returning
the favor," Kyle said and smiled at me.
I bopped him on the head. He
brought my ear to his mouth. "Dad,
is it okay to swallow, you know what?"

"If you're
referring to what I'm think you're referring to, it's fine.
I read once where the stuff has nutritious
elements as part of its makeup."

"Is
it?" I heard Kit ask from a few feet away.

"Dad says
it's the breakfast of champions," Kyle replied and got a laugh from his
brothers.

I moved to my
youngest son and got a smack on the lips, before his own private question.
"Is it okay to do the thump'im thing,
Dad?"

I dreaded to
ask. "Not sure what you mean by
that."

"Well, if you
were doing it with a girl, it would be the thump her, but with a guy it's the
thump him." He giggled his usual
jokester snicker.

"Well, Mr.
Thumper, as long as someone uses plenty of lubrication and goes real slow, I'd
say it's very pleasurable in the future."

Kit sat up in the
darkness and proclaimed to his two brothers.
"The LDC is a go!"

Kory had to be
the easiest of the three sons with his kiss to my cheek.
He wasn't done either.
"Dad, Kyle and Kit say you're gay.
Why did you marry Mom?"

My chuckle was a
nervous one. "Look, guys, I'm just
saying there are passions in life that can't be ignored.
Some people like chocolate ice cream; others
are into vanilla, but that doesn't mean that some people don't try both, though
they have preference for another."

"So, you're
like, bisexual," Kory told me with certainty.

"If there's
a scale for sexual orientation, I'm probably a six or seven on a scale of
ten."

"For sucking
dick, right, Dad?" Kit said from the middle of the three beds.

After I got these
three to stop laughing, I had to define this more.
"For being non-straight, yes.
I do have six lovely children, which means I
can get it up at the right times."
They laughed again.

"So you love
Mom," Kory did not make it into a question.
This was an important statement for any
child. My parents divorced when I was
twelve, so I sensed their angst.

"I love your
mother very much, just not in a sexual sense like I might love someone of my
own sex. Is that being too honest?"

Kory looked up in
my eyes from his pillow. "Thanks
for telling the truth, Dad. You're the
coolest dad a boy can have. I'm glad you married mom because you had us."

That meant a
lot, since I always got the impression my sons didn't respect me, probably
because I never spent much time with them.
I departed their room with an uneasiness that I'd said too much.
Every child would like to think that their
parents are madly in love and that their father is this sex machine.
If sex is dirty and unspoken, your kids find
it disgusting to even view a parent as actually doing it.
This astute assertion was according to Kory
at a later date.

Adjourning to
the bathroom I masturbated that night because I was very horny and any sex with
Lucy was not going to happen anytime soon.
Several times images of Kyle came to my mind, and I had to sweep this
fantasy from my mind. Whatever had
happened had reopened a sleeping giant of sexual attraction for males.

The next morning
I sent an e-mail to Alan Stroup, making my message more of a letter as I
explained how his two novels had inspired my sons.
The attempted suicide wasn't something I
wanted everyone to know, but I needed to get it off my chest to, of all things,
a stranger. A response came back within
the hour. He wanted to know my address
so he could send two more books; plus, he wanted to speak with me personally on
my quick thinking and my support for my gay son.

For three hours
that afternoon we spent talking on the phone.
We knew each other like old friends by the time we were done.
My off-hand remark brought a far different
response than I had expected.

"I think
Kyle fell in love with Huck. In my mind,
while reading the book, I envisioned my son in a movie, finding that another
boy shared this desire to love someone of his own sex," I had said very
openly.

"Make
Huckleberry Pirates into a movie," Alan said very nonchalantly.
"I can probably get you the money."

I laughed, but a
very haphazard laugh that he was actually serious.
"You're kidding?"

"I'm quite
serious. Look, Brad, you're out of work
during a recession and you love your sons.
What better way to express this affection than to do your own
movie."

"Alan, I've
never directed even a school play, and then there would be twelve boys who
would look at me as an idiot."

"Directing
is like jumping off a springboard. It's
too easy. Put twelve boys together and
they'll forget they're even acting.
Trust me, by the sound of it, you're a natural.
I'll make some calls and see what kind of
funding I can get, while you think about it."

"I think
you're setting me up."

"Only to
have the experience of a lifetime. I
might even join you on set, if you don't mind."

"Don't think
for a second I would have it any other way."
I couldn't believe I was even conceiving this
idea.

My quick trip to
the mall had my spinning on this ridiculous concept.
Before I had second thoughts, I bought three
of my sons tubes of KY Jelly. I also
stepped into a bookstore and bought a book on making independent movies.
This can't be serious!

Chapter Five

Lucy wanted us to see a marriage counselor
at church. I agreed, only if it wasn't
at church. She stalled on this idea.
We admitted we had come to an impasse on our
views about homosexuality. I wasn't
budging and neither was she. Lucy was
sure our sons would come to their senses and leave Kyle and me to our own
accord. She had no idea.

That Sunday I
took the boys to a water park. If we
were going to be accused of having too much fun on a Sunday morning, we might
as well please our accusers. Before we
indulged I brought out my only talent, outside of golf, and that's the
harmonica. My sons all have good voices
and love to sing as a group. In this
case they were a trio. Kit's voice could
challenge those of the Vienna Boys' Choir, he was that good.
So I started in with Savior's Day, and the
boys took to the melody like they were in a concert.Within minutes they were arranging who sang
what and creating quite a musical composition.
From Savior's Day to I Can't Stop Singing, we had a great time for an
hour of singing.

Two hours at the
water park, a great lunch, and we arrived home to be snubbed again for our
dissension. Kyle said it best,
"Whatever!"

A mild surprise
happened when my eldest came to my side as I was reading the morning paper.

"Dad, I'm
sorry for my insinuations. Kyle
explained what happened."

I was impressed
and implied I held no resentments. That
was step one of his set-up. "Then
you won't mind if Katy and I use the car?"

"What's your
mom doing with hers?" I wasn't
going to make this easy.

"She said
the rest of you were going to celebrate Cynthia's last day at home before she
takes off for her summer session at Ohio State."

"And you're
not going?"

"We already
had this trip to the lake planned with some friends," he told me.

I tossed him the
keys with my usual warning to be careful.
I wasn't aware that Keith and Katy did things together.
So we all piled into the family suburban,
minus two. No more were we in the
vehicle as a family doing something together than the woman of the house told
Kit to buckle his seatbelt.

"Guess I
felt safe being crunched between Kyle and Kory," he said in humor from the
back seat.

Lucy had not
smiled in weeks and hardly had patience for her youngest.
"It doesn't matter, young man.
Always use protection when riding in a
car."

Kit
chuckled. "Ah, Mom, it just doesn't
feel right when I have to use protection."

We all caught his
little joke, but his mother turned in her seat and slapped the boy right across
the face. "What has gotten into
you?! It just goes to show that your
father is losing control of his sons with your filthy talk."
She glared at me.
"This is all your fault I hope you
realize! You better teach your children
some matters before they embarrass someone beside their mother."

I put the vehicle
back in park. "There was no reason
in the world for you to slap our son.
You and your illustrious church have made my sons scared of their own
sexuality. It's not me that needs to
straighten out their act."

"Now you're
blaming the church. Great!
It's the one foundation these children have
against the evils of the world."

"The evils,
my dear, lie in the ignorance of hypocrites and lack of tolerance."

"So now I'm
ignorant," she said flatly and took her favorite victim stance.

"We can
start there." I regretted saying
that in front of the children, but Kit's whimper had me burning inside.

Without further
words I backed out and drove us to the restaurant where we, once again, were in
complete silence as if this was a meeting between Israel and Palestine.
No one misunderstood Cynthia's decision to
travel to Columbus before the evening was done.
We had a hug of fatherly support, while her mother cried tears of losing
her first child to college.

I'd talked to my
youngest about the stresses on his mother over the past few weeks and how she
would likely apologize in due time. I
think we both knew that wasn't going to happen.
Kit had stop seething and accepted my hug that the world wasn't falling
apart.

There would be
no meeting of the minds or my wife tossing my pillow out in the hallway.
I did it myself by preparing the living room
couch to sleep in. By midnight I was at
the dining room table in examination of the thousands of things to do in making
an independent movie. Then common sense
flashed--who would even want to fund a movie with an amateur director and
no-name actors? I'm not sure what made
me glance up, but I noticed my eldest son walking to Katy's bedroom with just
his pajama bottoms on. Whatever that was
about, I'm sure it would be quick.

A half hour went
by before I closed my laptop, which put me in complete darkness but for a blue
glow coming through the drapes. I was
ready to adjourn to my new sleeping arrangements on the couch when I noticed
Keith coming out of Katy's bedroom with his bottoms draped over his
shoulder. A barely recovered penis
looped in its glory. His hasty retreat
back to his own bedroom was one he was sure no one noticed.
My self-righteous son was making out with his
sister? How convenient.
So much for the Church of Latter-Day Saints
and their morality lessons.

Two books,
gratis Alan Stroup, arrived in the mail the next day.
I put them on Kit's and Kyle's bed, knowing
that these novels would make their day.
We were now greeting each other with konnichi wa's and mushi mushi's.
Kyle, especially, wanted to start training in
a martial art, but that wasn't in the cards with his mother's temperament.

I received a call
from Alan that a so-called angel was going to call me.
He explained the vernacular of types of
people who put up money for movies without stars or directors who have track
records--that's me. These people either
had a peculiar interest in the subject matter or had money to burn.
He also told me what to say and the questions
that would be asked. I was to
immediately buy a HD movie camera and experiment with every opportunity I
had. My bank account had $16,000 left
with no clear job opportunities available.
Either he was crazy or I was.

I made sure my
cell phone accompanied me everywhere. I
went shopping for my first digital camera, a movie one at that.
When I explained to the salesman my intentions,
he drew me away from the family specials and into the professional realm of
movie making. I walked out spending over
five grand on a used Panasonic. As long
as I was burning money I bought a tiny spy camera that would send instant video
to my computer. I might as well know
what's going on with my perfect children.

The call from Bob
Turner came as I was in the parking lot, excited about this new equipment and
scared to death of spending money I couldn't afford.
He was friendly, yet a man who let it be
known that this was his call and he had the gold.
I tried to picture this soft gentle voice as
a huge Mafia figure with two gigantic bodyguards beside him with their hands on
guns. He would have already checked me
out and knew I had a family that he could threaten if things didn't go his
way. That's my imagination at its
best.

Mr. Stroup had given him enough information to
intrigue his interest. A bit hesitant on
revealing his own interest in fronting such a project, he asked me several
questions about who I would select for the boys in the film and about my own
son. I was vague in the details but let
him know that one of my boys was gay and was the perfect fit for one of the
main characters in the film.

Did I have a
mission statement? A screenplay?
What was my budget?
How much time did I need for filming?
Location?
I hemmed and hawed with a multitude of half-truths and downright lies;
directives given to me by Alan Stroup.
My timeline I'd established the night before was six months after
funding. Paul asked me if I'd be ready
in sixty days.

"Uh, yes, I
think that could be arranged," I answered.

"Alan
mentioned you needed five million. Could
you do it for half that?"

"Ummmm, that
shouldn't be a problem."

He wanted
one-hundred percent of net until his investment was recovered, than 50% of
gross after distribution costs. I
suggested he send any contract to Mr. Stroup, who would advise me thereof.
He wanted to avoid attorneys' fees, as in
more than one. I thought that was
best. He wanted to be one of the casting
directors, which I had no problem with.
He wanted to be on set when he was available.
No problem.
He wanted final edit and total ownership of the film.
I said no.
Exactly what Alan said would happen happened; he chuckled and said it
wasn't all that important, but he wanted his name as executive producer.
No problem.
He wanted to handle distribution, publicity, record label rights.
I'd have to get back with him on all this;
meaning, I'd talk to Alan.

"I want to
see the screenplay and timeline by next week," Bob said and I quickly said
it wouldn't be a problem. "By the
way, are you planning on making this a straight movie, since you're obviously
married?"

This was the deal
breaker. Was this guy gay?
Did he want the movie to be more of a Lord of
the Flies epic or a Disney adventure where boys just pretend to like each
other? I read once where Mel

Gibson, before he acted in Man Without a Face, wanted to make sure there were no insinuations
of any relationship between man and boy.
The author of the book threatened to withdraw her support if the book's
intent was tampered with. Gibson caved
in. Whatever I answered was the answer I'd have to live with.

"Bob, I'm a
gay married man with, possibly, two sons who happen to be gay, as well.
I'd prefer to make a movie my boys will be
proud to be in, which means upholding their integrity and self-esteem of being
gay."

You could have
heard my breathing I was that scared I'd blown the deal.

"Good!
I'm in.
If a director isn't in touch with the subject matter, it will show,
trust me. Why you got married is your
own business, but your sons are lucky to have someone who can empathize with
them."

"Thank you for
saying that," I responded.

I had no idea how
to do a screenplay or prepare a timeline for actual production.
It's why I would spend eighteen hours a day
doing nothing but learning film making.

I was so excited
I e-mailed Mr. Stroup immediately. He
congratulated me that I'd sold the project myself.
I knew better than to think I'd said
something impressive. The truth was, he had been wanting to do a movie himself for
many years on one of his books but wasn't sure he had energy to organize all
the particulars. Alan also figured he
lacked the patience to tolerate twelve boys and a crater full of
headaches. I was the sucker.
He had done my leg work and found an angel
who loved boy movies.

Through my
adulthood I had followed rules and guidelines to the letter.
Now my new friends were telling me to avoid
permits, film any location, anywhere, any time.
If trouble arose I was a tourist, a film student working on a
project. Their verbiage that this was an
indie film stuck in my head as an amateur's attempt to make a movie.
If they only knew I was a true amateur they
might have second thoughts.

With my
imagination at the highest stress level, I saw my youngest boy practicing golf
in the backyard with a junior club I had bought him when he was ten.
The little stick looked ridiculous in his
hands, so I headed for the garage and brought back two of my own clubs, carbon
shafts and very professional.

"Here, son,
try this one." We hit a few
thirty-foot chips and pitched between two lawn chairs.
Another lapse in my fatherhood in doing these
things with my boys.

Kit was a natural and began to do better than
I did when I taught him how not to use his wrists.
What better time to get to the bottom of my
son's premonition that he was gay.

"So,
youngster, what makes you think you're gay?"
I expected a shrug of the shoulders, a mere
guess that, because his pecker stood up at the oddest times, he must be
gay. Instead he pondered the question
and gave me his most intellectual grimace.

"Remember
when I started gymnastics, Dad? I think
I was ten. But me, Jake, and Chris are
like real buddies 'cause we practice together and take our showers at the same
time. We got boners to be funny, but I
was thinking mine was because I liked looking at his.
Now Jake thinks he might be like me, but he
hopes to like girls eventually. We still
get boners, but now Chris thinks it's gay and isn't all into it anymore.
I just look at Jake's butt and mine rises
like it wants to stretch the distance and, well, you know what.
I wanted to kiss him more than Spider Man,
and you know how much I loved him."

I chuckled and
thought that was about the best answer anyone could give.
Of course then Kit wanted to know when I knew
I was gay. I almost told him a few days
ago.

"I'm
thinking when I was twelve I messed around with another boy, but gay or
homosexual weren't exactly in our vocabulary.
Then around thirteen this friend and I masturbated all the time.
Through my teenage years I found assorted
boys to play with, but we didn't really know what we were doing.
Mostly masturbation and feeling each other
up. Maybe a kiss or two.
It's not like we had the Internet to see what
boys really liked or did with each other."

Kit smiled which
gave that one up. These kids were too
smart for their own good.

I chipped a
fifteen-footer into the center of a hula hoop. "When your mother came into
sight I figured marriage might just change things.
It didn't."

Kit patted me on
the back. "That's okay, Dad.
We boys have to stick together because dick
is just a whole lot more fun than what women have."

Though I was
close to laughing, I hardily agreed with this new teenager's insight.

That night I got
on the Internet to learn more about parenting a teenager.
This woman psychologist was some type of
expert, I guess, so I read her advice.
She didn't advise coddling teens in an attempt to shield them from every
harm. She thought this was
counterproductive. She also agreed with
a recent study that said early sexual experimentation by teenagers, as long as
it was consensual, improved their social behavior, had less delinquency, and
created more intelligent human beings. I
wasn't to raise my voice when talking to my teens because they often sensed
fear and alarm from adults and would retreat.
By spending more time with my boys they would be less likely to drink or
take drugs.

Lucy came behind
me and had her usual criticism. "I
see you're not exactly looking for job openings.
How long do you expect to live as a
freeloader?"

"The bills
are still being paid, if I remember right."

"We'll see
how long that last," she said as a departing remark.

Back to my
shrink, I learned that teenagers are natural risk takers, mostly because they
think they're immortal, but their brain is revved-up to push them to limits
they don't understand or fathom the consequences.
That made sense.
The fact that I should teach care and
compassion with sex seemed important.
It's one thing, she said, to be a walking hard-on, and quite another to
be thinking what the other person needs or desires.
She thought that parents should allow their
children to see and observe the romantic side of you.

"When our children begin to embrace their
own sexual feelings, curiosities and urges, cause them to connect this new and
expanding experience of themselves with an inner sense of joy and celebration,
not guilt and shame."

I knew by her words that she didn't know my
wife. I read on. "So talk about sex
with your children, laugh about sex with them, teach them, allow them, remind
them, and show them how to celebrate their sexuality.
You will know the age-appropriate way of
dealing with the incremental arrival of your child's sexuality if you are
clear, if you are finished with your own "unfinished business" about
all of this."

"Cool', I was
thinking, but this was a psychologist and not a spokesperson for the religious
right. It was easy for her to write,
"Naked bodies, whether of the parents or the children or their siblings,
are seen and treated as being totally natural, totally wonderful, and totally
okay--not as things of which to be ashamed.
Sexual functions are also seen and treated as totally natural, totally
wonderful, and totally okay."

I had to double check and make sure Kyle's
name wasn't on this. In my first
eighteen years as a parent I'd been a dismal failure; over the last month I
might receive the father-of-the-year award by this doctor.

This exceptional
psychologist, in my opinion, admitted that God gave teenagers a reason for
strong bodies, impulsive natures, and curious, flexible minds.
They are made to produce babies, but our
culture has grown away from that ideal.
She suggested that it's okay for teens to have kids, as long as older
adults raise them. Now that one I can
agree to. I was behind the times to her
recommendation to start teaching sex long before their teenagers.
Maybe it wasn't too late, and the boys were
asking me questions that should have been answered years ago.
But then I remembered the swallowing
question, then the sodomy one--those are pretty advanced sexual events.
Wait!
Being gay, those are exactly the questions that are interesting!

I was a failure
at many of her wishes, which no doubt led to my son's near suicide.
I could kick myself for such ignorance.
At least there wasn't rampant back-talking,
door-slamming, bedroom-retreating, fickle boys and girls in our house.
Then I thought about that and most of these
were common. Our home had been
dysfunctional sexually, so says the expert.
If I thought for a second that Lucy would be even slightly open to this,
I'd present it. This is where the wife
has the husband committed. There was no
doubt she'd been around 4th graders for too many years.

Her last comment
was excellent: "One way parents can do this is by setting a good example
by not pretending to be something you aren't.
Happiness, creativity, and the innovative spirit are crushed when kids
believe they need to fit into the perfect box or they see the parent preach one
thing and do another."

I was thinking I
could set boundaries and still be an example of how a gay man behaves and
thinks. That was my goal that
night. Really, those were my intentions.

*********

A Federal Express
man came to my door early the next morning to hand me a cashier's check for two
million dollars. Contracts had been
signed, per mail exchanges. Five hundred thousand had been kept by the author
as his payment. I wasn't going to
argue. Another package was delivered a
few hours later with Alan's input into a screenplay.
I could have kissed him.

My mind spun
beyond comprehension, so I spent the afternoon at Kit's gymnastic practice,
then Kyle's swim workout, and finally Kory's baseball game at six o'clock.
While watching other boys' butts and crotches,
while exploring the new gay me, I'd learned something terrific about my sons;
they were really talented. Kit had no
reservation on giving me a hug and including me in his entire workout.
Kyle introduced me to Rodney, with words that
few fathers hear.

"Dad, this
is my boyfriend. Isn't he
cute?" I hugged both boys.

Kory was beside
himself that I was watching one of his games.
He did spectacular, but when I went to hug him after the game, he stuck
out his hand. Any physical contact with
a parent wasn't a good sign amongst his peers.
Only after we got in the car with his two brothers, did he bend over and
kiss me with a squeeze around the neck.

"Thanks for
coming, Dad. That was so cool."

"Glad I
could share part of your lives. I'm
sorry I've been remiss doing this as a father.
By the way, Kit, your mother expects your hair to be cut, now that
you've turned thirteen. Not that I wish
to piss her off more than she is now, but I think that family tradition has run
its course. Crewcuts are a bit
too......"

"Ungay," Kyle said and had us laughing.

I set up a LLC, Limited
Liability Corporation, per Mr. Stroup's suggestion.
The money was deposited with this new venture
of responsibility to someone who believed that a movie about twelve orphans
would be exciting. I began to wonder if
I could put together a movie that brought Mr. Stroup's book to life.

The time had come to
see if I had the boys' support or even if they wanted any part of this fiasco
on my mind. I couldn't envision having
to find twelve boys to play these parts by myself, especially when I had two
gay sons of my own. That night I sat the
three down on Kit's bed, as they stared at me that something bad at
happened. Kit had such a sour look, he
just knew it was about his mother and me.

"How would
the three of you like to make a movie about that book you've read, THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES?"

They each had
wide eyes, a glare of disbelief.
"You're teasing us, right?" Kyle asked me.

"No.
I've been in touch with Mr. Stroup.
The money has already been put in the
bank."

The three looked
at each other, arms shot straight up into high fives, and then yelps of
approval. Kyle yanked his head toward his
brother and then toward me and that's when I got swamped; actually, more than
swamped. Kyle reached and clicked off
their nightlight, while Kit and Kory thumped on my chest.
Kyle ripped off my shorts and underwear.
How he got me hard so fast won't be
mentioned, but then Kory tossed Kyle a tube of KY and none of my resistance or
threats appeared to dissuade them. I tried
to remember some of those words from that psychologist.
Is this part of that totally wonderful logic?

Their laughter
over my predicament was of my expense. I
can't say, after being shocked, that I could go from my state of excitement to
a foul mood. Then Kit called me Helmet
Head, which created another round of hysterics.
They were incorrigible.

Released from my
bondage, I reminded them that this new nickname was not to be repeated for the
ears of others. Just because I had an
appendage that was rather thick was not a reason to give their father a
moniker. They laughed.

"Okay,
Helmet Head," Kit said and I had my first red ass underneath my hand.
Trouble was, he still laughed.
I departed with my legs shaking and the stark
realization that three of my sons had masturbated me to orgasm.
I was caught between feeling like I'd just
lost the biggest game of my life or won the lottery of love.

In this lull I
began to experiment with lighting, camera angles, and my new peek-a-boo lens,
attached to the bottom of the boys' light fixture in their bedroom as a justified
revenge for ganging up on me. It looked
like a logical attachment. If I expected
some routine boy roughhousing, I received that and more.
Linus has his blanket, but Kit has his Fred
Flintstone nightlight. It saved the day
as far as lighting was concerned. Their
romp and circumstance had advanced farther than what I knew as a teenager.

They had this
game of getting one of them lying on the bed naked, while the others ran their
fingernails along the skin. If the
brother flinched or laughed he had to perform whatever was requested.
None of them lasted more than a few seconds
and a gay movie had nothing on these guys.
If Kory wasn't gay, he had adjusted well to his brothers' nuances.

All this I
captured from the dining room on one laptop computer.
My libido had been so escalated, I had to
resort to an internal discipline to focus on my project in completing a
screenplay and timeline for the movie.
As a means to distract this hormonal room of boy togetherness, I invited
them each to assist me in how a teenager thinks or says under certain
circumstances. There were a few
cross-eyes until I offered a ten thousand dollar bonus for their
participation. It's amazing how
cooperative they became.

Mr. Stroup called
toward the end of the week, so I calmly asked him how much I should expect for
directing this movie.

"What's your
estimate?" he turned the question back on me.

Not wanting to
seem greedy and expecting a laugh at my overestimation of abilities, I said,
$25,000.

"Too
low. Try again."

"Fifty
thousand?" I asked in disbelief.

"Add a zero
and you're in the ballpark. Pay your
stars a hundred grand each; the other boys ten, plus all expenses.
Your workers will all be happy with ten
thousand. I receive a lot of
correspondence from teens who have read my book.
There's this hottie twink who goes to South
Florida now, who will be your assistant director.
The kid's a genius and will melt in your
arms. I know."

This was
something I had wondered about; how many letters from teenage admirers he
received. "How old is he?"

"He's
eighteen now, but sixteen when we first met, okay, maybe fourteen.
A bundle of joy I tell you, and he's studying
film. Not a pushy bone in his body, but
he'll be your right hand man. Name's
Tad, and I'll have him call you. By the
way, plan on paying the kid fifty grand.
He's worth it."

"A
godsend," I replied and knew I'd been saved for knowing nothing about
directing.

The call
finished, I calculated my expenses and realized I still had over a million to
do the film. The only surprise so far
was when I asked Alan how much we should expect to make after the film is
made. 'Nothing,' he hadn't hesitated to
blurt out. Between the investor,
distributor, art houses, publicity, and the other greedy fingers involved, net
proceeds had one definition--zero. What
was to be made was up front. For a
half-million I could live with that.

Chapter Six

The Briden
household was a combat zone under truce.
Everyone went their own way with few words and a tacit understanding
that a blow up was bound to occur at any time.
I was happy in thinking that Lucy was under the assumption that things
would be back to normal when she came to the reality that she didn't rule the
roost. There was now a new chain of
command because her husband had grown balls in a month's time.

In the meantime
she decided to take a few days of her summer vacation to visit her daughter at
Ohio State, as if Cynthia needed her mother to show up at college after only a
few weeks of independence.

My work was
exhaustive from morning to night. Like a
kid in a candy store I dove into the movie business with all my heart and
mind. The boys well earned their bonus
money, working together with ideas that were ingenious.
We reread the book three times and began to
define each character to their role, looks, age, and dialogue.
Keith ignored us, yet his curiosity was so
intense he kept asking each brother, when he would catch them alone, what we
were up to.

Exhausted after
every meeting of the minds, we adjourned to our respective bedrooms--mine in
the living room--at midnight. I was too
tired to play voyeur to three teenagers, though it was a new sexual awakening
like I was nineteen again. I'm thankful
that I'd kept my body in the same shape as my college days.

I've been told
that I'm a heavy sleeper, actually a family joke, and I rarely remember my
dreams. On this night, as in a few
others, I had a tendency to put myself back in high school.
I had a particular crush on a boy, which is a
whole other story. As part of this dream
his scent distracted me from my dream of being on the golf course with my
buddies. Immediately hard, I sensed his
willingness to have intercourse. It was
too good to be true, yet so surreal in my dream.
He came in my mouth after I'd finished
satisfying myself. The immense kissing
put my dream deeper and deeper to a satisfying sleep.

I woke up with
Kyle in my arms, his naked back to my chest. I hadn't remembered him climbing
in bed with me. I began to panic, but
then I remembered that Lucy was in Columbus and the kids slept in late because
it was summer. My dream came rushing
back after tasting a dry mouth, a touch of saltiness.

Quickly stepping
over my sleeping son, I examined my crotch and saw a coating of lubricant and a
few pubic hairs stuck together. I raised
the covers and examined Kyle's rear end.
A glistening coat of KY Jelly.
Nah, not possible, I told myself.

Throughout the
day I took the boys shopping at the camera store, before buying them new summer
duds that were in style, according to them.
I kept glancing over at my middle son, Kyle, to get a perspective if
anything happened the night before.
Occasionally he'd wrap his arm inside mine, a tint of possessiveness
that I was all his. "Nah!" I
said out loud to bring the biggest grin to his face.
This kid knew something I didn't.

Keith and Katy
were objects of my attention, as well, for different reasons.
Their coyness was too evident, but when no
one was looking--or they thought no one was looking--they acted like two
lovebirds. One Peek-a-boo camera was
changed to Katy's room.

That night, while
my three sons were huddled around the drawings of prospective scenes, thanks to
our family artist in Kit, out of the corner of my eye Keith was tiptoeing to
his sister's room.

I didn't expect
any video would be possible with the absence of night lights, so I excused
myself to the bathroom and located the family stethoscope, occasionally used by
my wife when someone was sick. Going to
Keith's room I pressed it against the wall and had my fill of two incestuous
lovers.

"God, Keith,
what if one of our brothers is looking for you?" I heard Katy ask.

"The old man is downstairs with the
faggots. They are into their little
project of make believe. Probably a play
for scout camp. Get on all fours; let's
try it doggy style."

"My ass will
be up in the air!" Katy had protested.

"Yeah, and
you have a great ass."

"Really?"

"I mean,
hot, girl!" Keith apparently knew
how to manipulate to get what he wanted.

Between the
"Oh, yeah's!" and the "God, that feels so good!", I had
enough evidence to blackmail my eldest if he ever saw something he shouldn't.

I admit the
sexual tension had my arousal at its height.
Finally making sure all three of my sons went to bed, I was looking
forward to some time with myself. Kyle
came bouncing down the steps in his altogether and slid in next to me.

"Son, I
don't think this is such a good idea."

"Mom's gone,
Dad. No big deal.
I don't like seeing you sleep all
alone."

"What if
Keith or Katy see us in the same bed?"

"He's in
with Katy. They sleep together."

"You know about this?"

"Who
doesn't? They've been diddling since
Katy was twelve. She thinks she's all
mature because she does it."

A father is the
last to know. "Look, no shenanigans
and don't steal the covers in the middle of the night."

"Gotcha!"

I rolled over and
kept my distance. I usually spent the first few minutes before I fell asleep in
an attempt to concentrate on what still needed done with the outline for
production.With my back to his back I
felt pretty safe.It wasn't a dream,
per se, but my mind told me it was Lucy, horny from weeks without sex,
attempting to make up for lost time. I
tongued the opening, an act I never really enjoyed, but this scent was
different. Her mouth was on my organ for
the longest time as my mind wondered. I
must have turned over to feel my own anus receiving such pleasure, then the
insertion. She must be wearing a dildo
and pleasing me because she knows I'm gay, I dreamt.
I remembered little else.

I woke up with my
back away from Kyle, my son snoozing away.
This is good, we must have slept like this all night, yet I knew I
switched positions throughout the night as part of my ritual.
As I swept away, my hip felt the wetness on
the sheet. I couldn't believe I had had
a wet dream. Maybe the last one was
twenty years ago. That showed how
aroused I was the night before, I thought.

My stretch in the
nude was invigorating, but my rear had a tightness to it with a feeling of
sponginess. Brushing my hand back there,
it came back wet with jelly and a smell of sperm.
A mere glance under the covers at my son's
woody, there was no doubt it was coated with the same substance.
I knew one thing, my rear wasn't coated when
I went to bed.

During college at
Ohio University, I had a close friend who became a psychologist.
We knew each other for three years in school
and never thought of being intimate because we were afraid what the other would
think. I called him.

Now Joe Sproveri
is another private crush of mine, a guy who has the perfect life, a handsome
partner, and still makes me drool when I see him.
I could never tell him all this, though we
see each other all the time at the country club.
He's another person I have often shanked a
shot on the golf course to make sure that he beat me and to insure a future
invitation in the future to play in his foursome.
A bad habit that my father-in-law had
installed in my game.

All I knew, I was
going to go insane if I didn't tackle this problem.
My explanation was a peripheral of the
problem, but I'd never actually been to a shrink before.

Joe smiled at my
issue, he called it, and sank back into his easy chair behind the desk.
"So, Brad, what I'm hearing is, you
think you're having sex with someone underage, but you're not real sure."

"I'm pretty
sure," I replied. "The person
is a teenager, so I'm relieved at that.
I think I'm resorting to an adolescent again."

Joe laughed,
which made my heart jump at his gorgeous smile.
Where had I gone so wrong? Then I
reminded myself I had six beautiful children.

"We haven't
actually resolved to how this person got into your bed, or where everyone else
was. How do you know that you had
sex? Were there signs of pubic
hairs?" Joe asked.

"The person I
was with is a swimmer, no hair but for the head."

"So you're a
coach or youth leader?"

I hadn't wanted
to reveal all those secrets. "Let's
say I'm responsible for a group of teenagers, Joe, and it just happened."

"Right, Brad,
things just happen and you want someone to say it was okay because you thought
you were asleep. Let me ask you
something. Was this the idea of this
teenager to do this?"

"Absolutely,
Joe. I didn't impose my desire on
him....this person. My wife says I could
sleep through a nuclear holocaust. I do
sleep rather soundly."

Joe lit up.
"You hadn't exactly implied on the sex
of this person. May I assume it was a
male?"

"Okay, you
can assume."

"Aside from
society's expectations and the laws of this state, let's deal with this side of
Brad Briden."

"Okay, I like
that," I admitted.

"How did you
feel about having sex with another male?"

"I was, well,
excited. I liked it.
I mean, I must have because, well, in my
dream I thought it was Lucy, but how could it be my wife when I had this cock
in my mouth? Anyway, it was one of those
dreams that you don't want to wake up because it feels so good.
I had a sensation that it was too real, but
my eyelids were so heavy I just wanted to enjoy it."

"How long have you known about this
attraction?"

My turn to
smile. "Since I was a
teenager."

"And you
didn't tell me when we roomed together.
Shame on you."

"My
apologies."

"Brad, let me
make this as uncomplicated as possible.
A man cannot make up for what he didn't get as a child.
By using sexual fantasies and play, this
desire can be satisfied on a temporary basis.
That's the great thing about fantasy; you can live a life based on any
joy you want to achieve. It's not
uncommon for a man to get aroused by twinks because he came out late and
desires to recapture his own youth.
Hell, we all find twinks to be a mind blower; you just can't act on the
attraction. Your birth certificate will
say you're this thirty-eight year old man, but in "gay years," you're
still pushing twenty-one."

"You're
implying I'm gay, Joe?"

"If your
passion is for the male sex, and this passion and eroticizing makes your dick
jerk with pleasure and excitement, you're gay.
Bisexuality is a cop out. Do you
have the same emotional reaction to your wife, Brad?"

I hesitated.
"Not really."

"Congratulations on just coming out.
Now, let's deal with this twink.
First of all I don't want you to get all
stressed out. Is this boy unhappy with the
results?"

"Not
hardly. He wants to keep doing it."

"That's where
your maturity and his immaturity have to come to terms.
A teenager is quite capable of knowing who he
wants to suck his dick. Society might
not give him credit for this, but that's the psychological truth.
The goal is to protect your future and
restore common sense in relationships.
It's one thing to teach and mentor a gay youth to learn more about
himself, quite another to think this is going to be a long-term, satisfying relationship
based on mutual interests and social acceptance.
You will find that you two have little
interest outside of an impending orgasm."

"I love this
boy," I admitted.

"And I have
no doubt he loves you. We have to adjust
your goals and his. Can you bring the
teenager in for a session?"

"I'll
try."

Joe offered one
more insight. "Knowing how
teenagers think, this boy is reluctant to ask you to have sex with him, so he's
giving you an out, Brad."

"How's
that?" I had to ask.

"He's
figuring you want do to this, so doing it in darkness is allowing you to say
you had no idea who it was or even remember that it did. He might even know
that you're a heavy sleeper, if you actually asleep."

"Whoa there,
Joe! I never felt like I awoke.
That's the truth."

"I believe
you, but does the boy really know that you're a heavy sleeper?"

"Ah, he
knows. My wife often makes fun of
it. I can't really tell you how this boy
knows this, but... Anyway, so you're
saying that Kyle, I mean, this boy, believes that I want this on a nightly
basis."

"You got it.
The boy must know your wife pretty well."

"Ah, he spends a
lot of time around our house."

This sounds
really crazy, but I had to know for sure that night.
I allowed Kyle to crawl in bed with me for
this last night before Lucy returned from Columbus.

An hour previous
at the dining room table the four of us had had our laughs over my video replay
of their brother and sister. I didn't
mention they had been caught on candid camera, as well.
Though the lighting was insufficient, there
was enough moonlight through the window to watch Keith humping his sister on
all fours while she bragged about his size and moaned.Kit thought it was a comedy.

There was no doubt that Kyle was bright
enough to take advantage of his father after I had fallen asleep.
Either it was his rationale that he could
claim I was unconscious, or he was allowing me this excuse.
The truth was, the dreams felt too real.
I must have struggled to stay awake for
another hour before I succumbed to sleep.

After feelings
his lips on mine and getting caught into this dream, it was the orgasm that
awoke my senses. I was on my back when
my eyes shot open. Kyle had his head arched back and was riding me, but there
was no way I wanted to break this union, as crazy as that sounded.
I even reached up and tweaked his nipples to
send him into a Katy frenzy. I had
ejaculated inside of him in him while he began to shoot all over my chest.
His soft groans convinced me that Kyle was
really into this union of bodies. We
both froze in our orgasmic state and I'd never experienced quite an orgasm or
number of spasms as I felt that night.
There was little I could do but mouth my own verbal satisfaction of
being spent sexually. The boy had taken
me to places I never knew possible. I'll
have to admit, it was the best sex I had ever had.

My eyes shut
quickly. I pretended to be asleep in this dream as Kyle quietly ran to the
kitchen and came back with a wet towel--cold water, mind you, and wiped my
chest down. I jerked with both the
coldness and how ticklish it was when he wiped my penis off.
I actually grew hard again in his hand.
Even when I felt he had finished, he put his
body on top of mine and French kissed me for five minutes.
I called him Bud to verify my dream and to convince
both of us that it was only a dream.

"I love
you, Brad," Kyle whispered, which almost had me laughing that he was
acting his role. I rolled over to resume
sleep and tried to formulate my words to where Joe would actually believe me.

In the morning I
mentioned to my reserved and secretive son that he was going on an appointment
with me. Kyle gave me this most curious
look, which made me feel rotten that I was taking him through this therapy that
he hadn't exactly volunteered for.

Kyle grabbed me
before I had a chance to climb over him.
He was daring in going groin to groin with me like it was perfectly
natural for father and son to be sensual.

"Dad, I'm
sorry if you're mad at me, but I love you more than you can imagine."

I felt like shit
for taking him through this. "My
boy, I'm not sure how close God intended fathers and sons to be.
You're part of me, as I'm part of you.
What's normal or not is best left up to
God."

"God doesn't
mind, I just know He doesn't," Kyle tried to convince both of us.
"Noah and Ham did it."

I paused, not
really caring that our penises were touching.
"That's in the Bible?"

"Sure.
God had a lot of boy-companions.
Elisha and Elijah pressed themselves naked on
boys, and don't forget David and Jonathan, Saul and David."

"You must
have had one kinky Sunday School teacher," I said.

"Rodney has
one. He tells me all about the
homoerotic scenes in the Old Testament."

I smacked my
lips. "I could have used a friend
like that in high school." I didn't
mean to crack a joke, but this was far more serious.
"Look, Kyle, your dad can't build a boat
like Noah, so maybe I don't qualify as a likely candidate for your love."

I hugged him
close because I never wanted to lose him again.
If we were only both fifteen again we'd stayed in bed until we both
couldn't get it up again. "Trust me
on this, Kyle. If I allow this I'm doing
you an injustice. You're too beautiful
for a man my age."

"But Mr.
Yamato was perfect for Kami," Kyle pleaded.

"That was a
book, son, just a book."

"Tell that
to a samurai and he'd cut your head off, or make you love me.I'd prefer that."

"Ah, yes,
but I guarantee that few were father and sons."
I squeezed his ass and suggested we both get
our butts in gear.

My tendency not
to keep a straight face was way too apparent when I introduced Kyle to Dr.
Sproveri. I loved the look on his face,
though he covered it up well and treated my son like the boy was his own flesh
and blood. Kyle was near panic, but he
relaxed with the jovial nature of the talk and that Joe and I were the best of
friends.

"You didn't
mention he was a knockout or your son, Brad," Joe began and put Kyle at
ease. "So, young man, do you love your father?" Joe asked.

"Yes,
sir. How did you know I was his
son?"

"By God, you
two look like twins," Joe said and had my son light up like a Christmas
tree. "And you know your father
loves you?"

"Yes,
sir."

"If I may
ask, what do you like best about your father?"

Kyle considered
this for a second. "He saved my
life and he's just the greatest dad a kid can have."

Joe winked at
me. "What do you know about your
father's sexuality?"

Good question I
thought. Joe is making this more about
me, than Kyle.

"Dad told me
he was gay." Kyle turned to
me. "Is it okay that I say that,
Dad?"

"You already
did," I replied and laughed.
"Joe knows everything."

Kyle's face turned
white. "Everything?"

"Dr. Sproveri
is gay, too."

"You
are?"

"It's a
blessing," Joe replied and had my son smile.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Kyle perked
up. "Yes, but his parents don't
know."

"Ever do
anything sexual with him?"

"We kissed
twice, no three times. We've felt up
each other's boner, I mean, erection."

"Trust me,
Kyle, we don't have to be grammatically correct here.
Use whatever words you like.
Boner is find."
Joe looked at me.
"Ever thought of having the two boys
sleep over?"

"Kyle's
mother frowns on sleepovers. She thinks
it may lead to acts that are unbecoming."

The doctor wanted
to laugh at that one. There's been
timing in my life, and there's been timing.
This was timing. My cell phone
rang and it was Lucy. She said she was
spending a few more days in Columbus because the car was acting up.
I appreciated her call and told her
everything at home was going well.

I shoved the phone
in my pocket. "I'm thinking that's
about to change." I looked at my
son. "Would you like to have Rodney
sleep over?"

"Kyle, I'm
not judging here, nor is this about right or wrong.
Each of us construct particular sexual
fantasies and erotic desires that are not pathological but a form of self-help,
erotic blueprints, per se, that can help us discover ourselves, along with the
right partner for each of us. Can you
understand that?"

"Yes,
sir."

"Good.
We also have sexual preferences that negate
self-denigrating beliefs and feelings, thus allowing sexual excitement to
emerge. In order to feel aroused, we
transform ourselves from frogs to princes.
Sexual acts then undo rejections, turn helplessness into power, redeem
feelings of unworthiness, and eliminate even the slimmest vestiges of
depression. For just a few moments, just
long enough to have that great orgasm in the sky, we become powerful and feel
good about ourselves. Can you relate to
that?"

"I think
so. That's how I feel when I'm with
Dad. He's the best lover a boy can
have. He's not abusing me, if that's
what you think."

Joe smiled and
paid me the compliment that he had missed out on this sexual dynamo.
"It's not that any sexual union is
really wrong, unless it's forced or coerced, but some relationships aren't
beneficial for both parties. To discover
sex and feel that powerful orgasm with someone your own age is the ultimate
goal."

"But Dad is
more than that. He's like..." Kyle
started.

"You love the
feeling you have when you're with your father," Joe interjected.

"I don't
know. He just makes me want to kiss him
all over, and I can't get enough when he's inside of me.
No boy can do that for me.
He's the perfect lover."

"Profound
words from someone so young. Ah, but you
don't know that until you try someone your own age, right?"

"I have
with my brothers, but Dad is so much better."

"Your
father will have an adult relationship, just as you will have a relationship
with Rodney. Use what you've learned and
the love you have shared to help you establish a meaningful relationship with a
boy. Erotic sex is fun, but you need
permanency in your life and those emotions that every day you can wake up and
love that person openly."

"I think I
understand, but is it okay...."

Joe raised his hand.
"All sexual fantasies are healthy, but
some just shouldn't be acted on because they might put the one who has them, or
someone else, at risk. The sexual
connection of a father-son fantasy lets both parent and child experience a
tight-knit bond. It is not a sickness
because you can't be sexually aroused and unhappy at the same time.
In this day and age, such a discovery would
bring misery to both your lives."

"Yes
sir." Kyle had this puzzled look in
examining me. "Dad, have you found
an adult male?"

I couldn't resist
laughing. "Not exactly, but maybe
I'll work on that attachment."

We had this great
agreement of the minds, I was sure. As
we were leaving, Joe had to ask my son what he had discovered in his short
sexual life.

Kyle gleamed with the question.
"Having my butt licked is awesome,"
he said with pride.

Joe busted
up. "Must have been one hell of a
dream, Brad." I nodded and gave
Kyle a stare.

"You didn't
have to talk about that one," I said under my breath, but both of them
heard it. Kyle laughed, so I was glad he
wasn't traumatized by his first trip to a shrink.

A quick call had
Rodney ride over on his bicycle for dinner.
Naturally Kyle couldn't wait to tell Rodney of our movie scheme.
I looked at this cute youngster, as short as
a jockey and perfect for a diver, and saw Huck in him from head to toe.
This was too good to be true.
My actors were coming to me.

Kory and Kit
wanted to know where we went and why they weren't invited.
I winked and pretended it had something to do
with Kyle's state of mind. They figured
it out that they understood and would keep an eye on him.
We were on two different wavelengths, but
that was okay. Something told me that
these two knew why Kyle slept with me but were okay with it.

Katy and Keith
had these condemning frowns on their faces that their mother wouldn't have
condoned this overnight visit. They
couldn't wait to tell. With Rodney a
part of our nightly colloquy for film school, he threw himself quickly in all
the proceedings. Kyle caught my ear and
told me he'd switched the video camera back to his own room.
I was amazed he could find it.

"Ah, Dad,
once you know what to look for, it was easy.
Just thought you'd want to see the master at work."

Fortunately his
brothers weren't in on this.

Anyway, I
examined Rodney like I would have if one of my sons brought home a girl.
He appeared polite, well-mannered, and
blended in well with my other sons. Boys
can be so different than girls when they're around parents.
From angelic beings to hell on wheels in a
manner of minutes, Rodney had a feistiness to him that was intriguing.
His black hair contrasted to my sons blond
locks, yet his handsome features were stunning.
I kept my eye out for signs of gayness; his touchy-feely hands were
consistently his giveaway. Around me
Rodney was hesitant at first, but I put my arm around his shoulders and he
melted to the attention. Kyle smiled at
me, like I was hitting on his boyfriend, but would later tell me that Rodney's
dad was cold and demanding.

Much like my own
son Kyle, a more serene kid would be difficult to find, but allow the boy to
have a hard-on and there would be no doubt he'd be this sexual awakening that
Kyle needed to replace his father. When
the boy pressed his hands to mine to keep them tight against his chest, I
thought he was hitting on me. Kyle
didn't mind one bit and I quickly envisioned the nightmare of having both of
them in bed with me.

Teenagers are so
much more attune to technology than I ever thought of being at their age.
Rodney knew all about Star Wars-Episode II,
which was filmed digitally. He spouted
off that George Lucas had had a $12,000 a week camera package rental for a 24P
Sony HD900 from Panavision. I pretended
not to be ignorant and nodded. I had
learned enough to convey that we were shooting at 1920 x 1080 lines of
resolution. That impressed the group.

Rodney wasn't bad
with a pencil as he assisted Kit with the making of a few storyboards.
His knowledge of ships wasn't bad
either. Then Kory ran upstairs and
retrieved THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES
for Rodney to read a few passages. Kory
waited for a reaction like we all did.
The boy glanced up.

"These guys
are gay. He expected my censure, a
refute of what he had just read.

"You okay
with that?" I asked.

He shrugged.
"Is Kyle okay with it?"

"Come on,
dude, I'm gay," Kyle said with pride.

"I'm gay,
too," Kit announced.

"You're
playing with me," Rodney said as a surety.
He made sure to stare at me.

I shook my
head. "Meet my two gay sons,"
I said.

Rodney glanced at
each. "Cool.
In this scene I get chased around the cabin
because the pirate wants my booty. I hope he's cute."

We laughed and Kyle
hit his boyfriend. "You're not
supposed to let him catch you."

"Maybe we
can practice that tonight," Rodney said and just knew he'd said the wrong
thing. Instead he got a
"Hubba-hubba," from Kit.

My cautiousness
had me wondering if my son and this kid had ever really kissed.
As the night progressed Rodney became more
interested by the page. He was beginning
to read, visualize the scene, and then give his novice advice, sketching two
boys at the bow of the ship, kissing. He
and Kyle giggled and almost kissed but for Kit coming in between them to
critique the storyboard.It was
midnight when I sent the four of them to bed.

Tired myself, I
brought the computer to my sofa bed and placed it on my lap.
This could be either boring or way too
exciting for my own good. There was a
lot if idle chit chat, boys too excited to sleep.
I ran up and brushed me teeth and had all
four boys join me with toothbrushes in their hands. The boys had a playful push
and shove waiting there time in showing off their cool father who didn't
discipline them for acting like fools. I
think Rodney was taken back by my sons' openness in peeing in my presence.

They hastened
back to their room, while I departed back downstairs again. In their teenage
domain Kory brought out his football and said there was an easier way of
getting undressed for bed. Marking one,
he said that whoever had the ball point at him, they lost an article of
clothing. Then the ball twirled between
two of them and an argument ensued.
Okay, if it landed between two of them, both would lose.
Kory was like a negotiator for gay boys.
In minutes their pensive nature had turned to
laughter with two of them naked. Then
new rules were instilled by majority vote.
Even with the dimness of a nightlight, three boners stood out.
Only Kory wasn't immediately excited in the
midst of all the testosterone.

From kisses on
the cheek to mandatory ones on the lips, everyone had soon kissed someone.
Kory ran to retrieve a baseball this time, marking
it with the letters LB and SD. I had no
idea. The first loser was Kit, when he
had LB spin to a stop in front of him.
He bent down and licked Rodney's balls.
Kory ran out of luck and had to give Kyle a SD, which meant suck
dick. Rodney was no longer this
hesitant, wary teenager in the middle of the Briden boys.
He straightened his legs and roared with
laughter, his boner for all to see. It
got to a point where they were even arguing that the ball spun in front of
them, often saying it was a tie and they both had to give each other a blow
job.

Leave it to Kyle
to arch back on his elbows, with Rodney between his legs, and look up at the
camera above them. He smiled.
Nothing left to imagine, Kyle took the game
to new heights with rimming. Kory
resisted, but not in receiving such delicacy.
When called chicken and wuss, he caved in and went down on Kit's ass.

"I want that
ass," Kory said after putting his cock next to the hole.

"Spin the
ball!" Kit said with a challenge that whoever lost, got the reward.
He won and had his first straight boy.
Though Kory winced, he was soon pleading with
Kit not to pull out.

It was Rodney who
wasn't too sure that this sodomy thing was something he was ready for.
The four of them adjourned to their beds,
with Rodney sleeping with Kyle. Kyle was
hardly finished, coating his own ass and Rodney's, then asking Rodney if he
wanted to and he could go first. Without
including the other two, the covers were thrown off, I believe for my
observation.

After a few
minutes of Rodney's initiation into sexual intercourse, they switched
roles. Kyle was as gentle as any lover
could ask for. He had Rodney purring
after a few strokes. Kit crawled over
and watched with delight while stretched out on his stomach.

Way too erotic
for my renewed gayness, I jacked off as a true voyeur.
Where were boys like this when I was their
age? What I had concluded before I
calmed down, Kyle and Rodney were my two leading men for THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES. Now
to convince his Presbyterian parents to allow their son to go on vacation to
Florida and act in his birthday suit.
First things first, he had to come out to his parents, or did he?

Chapter Seven

It had been a hot
night without an air conditioner cooling the house down.
This was an expense we had decided to forego
to save money. Leave it to Keith to wake
up first and peek in his brothers' room.
Four boys, lying in the nude, barely covered, if at all, gave Keith the
ammunition he thought sure would put him in good graces with his mother.
Thankfully he had his caustic remarks
directed at me first.

"Care to go
upstairs and see your faggot sons expose themselves?"

I poured my hot
chocolate, as calm as I managed to stay without strangling the little
bugger. My hand went over his shoulders
as I pushed him to sit at the breakfast table.
Sitting across from him I smiled.

"Check this
out, sport, you've got some nerve being this pompous intruder into your
brothers' lives."

"You don't
see me showing my ass for everyone to see.
And Kyle has his arms wrapped around that other kid up there."

"Don't
suppose they did it doggy style, do you?
Maybe they told each other that they liked the view of each other's
ass. Of course, there again, they're not
into their sisters, are they?"

Keith got this
panic countenance. "What do you
mean? I don't have the hots for my
sister."

"People's
eyes dilate when they're lying. And here
I thought you were ready for the Mormon mission."

He stood up.
"Did one of my brothers snoop on
me? Don't believe a word they say."

"Probably no
more than you spying on them while they're sleeping.
You better be using condoms, young man.
I suppose we can discuss this at the dining
room table, your brothers' nudity and you screwing your sister.
By the way, I also did my own snooping.
It must run in the family."

"You can be
such an asshole," he told me and departed.

"Way to
deflect, son. Blame it on your old
man! Love your loving words for your old
man!" I think he flipped me the
bird over his shoulder.

There were four
drowsy boys for breakfast when they stirred at the sound of the lawnmower,
thanks to their older brother. That was
his passive-aggressive way at getting back at me and his brothers.
Kyle had loaned Rodney his board shorts, as
they each dressed in as few clothes as possible for this hot summer day.
My own sons kissed me as they entered, though
Kit patted me on the head with his greeting, "Morning, Helmet Head."

Kyle slugged his
brother a good one on the shoulder.
"Use your head, bozo. We
have company."

"What does
helmet head mean?" Rodney asked.

"Oh,
nothing," Kit rescued his faux pas.

"I know what
a turtle head is," Rodney admitted.

Kyle gulped, which gave that one up.
"Let's just say that my dad has a bigger
dick than your dad."

I was glad Rodney
laughed. "I can barely see my dad's
dick with his belly."

"Our father
is an athlete," Kit tried to get back in my good graces.

"Yeah, I'm a
golfer, so we all have long putters and polished balls," I interjected
into this conversation.

Rodney thought
that was hilariously funny. "Your
dad is cool," he admitted to Kyle.
"Mine is such a dork."

I just hoped he
didn't go home and tell his parents that I was cool because of my penis.

A golfing
engagement, which I'd put off for lack of income, was on my day's
schedule. Now that I had a few extra
bucks I could play eighteen once in a while.
A list of chores and warnings not to spend the day in sexual acts with
each other, I left the boys in hopes they weren't at each other's throats upon
my return. I did whisper to Kyle and
Kory that their brother was aware I knew about the affair with his sister.
Any retaliation was likely not to happen, if
he knew what was good for him.

By the tenth
fairway I had a mental burp to survive this humidity.
My golfing buddies wondered if the heat had gotten
to me, as I flipped my cell phone shut.
The store said they would deliver and have it set up in less than two
hours.

My favorite
shrink was my partner in this best ball club tournament.
I made sure he wasn't disappointed in
inviting me to play with him. Joe and I
had time to talk about Kyle in an around-about way.
He said, through the years, he had had many
father and daughter incest cases in his family counseling.
Quite often the daughter had developed a
crush on their father which the adult found irresistible.
Most often the girl broke off this relationship
by the time she turned fourteen. I found
this information rather interesting as we drove along in our golf cart.
It was the talk of male incest that had my
ears perked while we watched another golfer struggle from the sand trap.

"Don't think
you're all alone in this, Brad. Though
it's not as common, boys can become quite attached to their fathers, especially
if the father is receptive. There are
fathers who abuse their sons, but this is abuse, not mere incest.
Boys' libido is six times that of a female,
so any sex is inviting, even with an adult male who happens to be their
father. They rarely break it off through
adolescence until they find a partner of their own age.
The father is more dependent on such a sexual
outlet than the boy, once the kid finds another source.
Cases I see are ones that are
discovered. Unlike Kyle, most of the
boys are embarrassed or in denial. They certainly
want to protect their fathers at every turn."

"I had no
idea," I admitted. "I've never
sexualized my sons until Kyle's sexuality became an issue.
I find it difficult to believe that I enjoyed
the whole thing."

"You're
human and have a passion toward males.
Boys can be major players in bed because of their ability for multiple
orgasms in a very limited period of time.
Nature only slows them up for twenty minutes, at best."

I laughed,
addressed my ball, sixty yards from the flag, and then hit a pitching wedge a
foot from the pin and watched it roll in the hole.
"I feel like a fifteen-year old who just
got rid of his virginity."

I'm glad my shrink thought it was funny. As we
waited for one of our opponents to find an errant ball, Joe placed his hand on
my shoulder, followed by very interesting words for a psychologist.

"Let me call foul here for all gay boys,
Brad. Boys grow up with a mother-child
relationship that is often the primary determinant of the quality of all later
experiences of love. A boy who learns
that he can basically trust the world develops a secure center of self that is
capable of withstanding the normal vicissitudes of life. If a boy believes he
belongs as part of the human race, that there is a place for him and, more
importantly, doesn't have to prove it, he adjusts fairly well.
For a gay kid who discovers his attraction is
for his own sex, this perception leads, consciously or unconsciously, to the
judgment that life sucks and that there is a reasonable expectation that he is
not going to get his needs met, both by others as well as through his own searching.

"Your son
had already felt rejected, had no confidence that his emotional needs were
going to be met. This formative
unhealthy attitude toward the world, oneself, and others counters an essential
psychological paradigm for the capacity to love as an adult.
In my terms your son lacked primary
narcissism--a high regard for oneself that is part of an enduring and healthy
sense of self-worth and self-love. I've gone to various therapy groups as a
visitor and watched my peers tell these so-called sex offenders that they're
too narcissistic. I have to shake my
head. It's just the opposite. People
don't get it, the straight populace is the problem in how they treat gays in our
society, starting with its youth.

"Now with
you, Brad, if I may guess, I'd say Kyle is your favorite son, though fathers
rarely admit such favoritism. A father's
love for his son is conditioned by how well the son mirrors his father's values
and conforms to his expectations. Unlike
the attention the son receives from his mother, which is usually unconditional,
your love is earned through the son's successful mastery of your
expectations. Kyle figured he couldn't
perform in order to keep your love flowing, at least not as a gay boy.
This model of father-son love introduces a
destructive potential that becomes manifest when love and power become
fused."

My friend had just sent me back on my
heels. He was a genius in his analysis.
"I can sort of understand, Joe.
Kyle saw that his mother's love really isn't
unconditional, but mine was."

"Good
point. If your son loses his feminine
nature due to ambivalence toward women, women become just objects.
Your own acceptance of femininity models for
Kyle a respect for women. There are
aspects here why Kyle is a bottom for you, outside that you're a dominant
figure in his life. In many ways he
finds you an equal gay partner, but wants to play the passive role to replace
your wife. I haven't even brought in the
truth that you saved his life, and then told him you were one in the same.
That's like saying he found his other
half. I can't tell you what new
psychological revelations we're beginning raw ground on here."

"Your making
me a test case, aren't you?" I responded in humor and watched our
opponents bogey the hole.

"Only because
your son appears at his happiest and mentally healthy.
I strive for father and sons to have a strong
positive emotional bond characterized by trust and mutual respect.
Good luck in finding this in present day
families. It's more like judgmental,
mistrustful, competitive, and overly powerful.
Why should you change when the world is balanced, outside of the fact
that society would crucify you if they knew?"

"You're
giving me a green light? I better take
sleeping pills so I don't remember a thing."

"To tell you
the truth, Brad, no one has ever discovered either the origin of the incest
taboo or the reasons for it. Both Freud
and Jung made incest one of their favorite studies, but they both conceived
incest as innate in the individual. Jung
saw incest as an archetypal structure portraying the push toward union--not so
much a physical union, but a spiritual one.
You might say it's a natural urge and therefore not pathological.
Having both a gay father and a gay son becomes
a recipe for such a relationship to foster.

"I recently
read a book by Robert Stein, Incest and Human Love.
Stein says that the function of incest
prohibition is to stimulate the sexual imagination and to bring instincts into
the service of love, kinship and creativity.
This means that essential to the psychological health and maturation of
the child is that he experiences an erotic flow and connection to parents and
siblings without fear, guilt or violation. The negative side to understanding other's
viewpoints is that they often think of incest as mother and son, father and
daughter. Most sex abuses are from the
child's family, with father and daughter incest accounting for almost 80
percent of the cases. Brother and sister
acts are the second highest. Incest is
as old as mankind and widely accepted as an early form of procreation."

"Like the
Oedipus myth," I said with my limited knowledge.

"A
little," Joe replied. "See,
the Oedipus myth simply explains the child's wish to sexually possess one
parent, as well as the wish to replace, or do away with, the other parent.
There again, Freud was thinking the
biological urge of the boy for his mother, not vice versa.
Yet, I can certainly understand Kyle's desire
for his father as a sexual wish rather than as a symbolic regressive longing
for what you represent. For most parents
and children there is a natural abhorrence of actually committing incest, even
while there is a fascination. While the
shrinks of the world might like you to think that such a relationship is
devastating for the victim, it's hardly psychologically damaging.
In my research I've found that this imagery
represents not the child's own innate desire but the child's unconscious
perception of the parent's wish."

"Do you mean, Joe, that Kyle thinks this
is what I want?"

"Possibly. He sees his
father as this unhappy gay man stuck in a marriage with no other recourse.
He's fulfilling your happiness by giving you
a ready partner. When he spoke in the
office the other day, that's exactly what he was saying.
He certainly doesn't fear his father's
retaliation against him for his wish to have his mother for himself because he
has no desire for his mother. This is
what the Oedipus complex is all about. Kyle's acts are purely a definition of
libido, or psychic energy, which for him is primarily of a psychosexual
nature."

"All Greek
to me, Joe. Am I screwing with the kid's
brains? No pun intended."

"Not if you
don't insist on this relationship.
Eventually Kyle will move away from this in the natural processes of
psychological differentiation."

"Right.
Sure.
Could you put that in golf lingo for me?"

"Of
course," Joe laughed. "The boy
will soon out drive, out putt, and out finesse his father.
This will define that there's a new man in
town and that the old can't keep up with the new.
He'll find someone else to compete with and
discover a hole in one."

"Cute.
Joe, I can't keep up with him in bed
now."

"I wasn't
talking sex, Brad. Gee, is that all you
have on your mind?"

Leave it to a
psychologist to have the last word. I
figured as long as we were winning this thing I might as well tell him about my
movie idea. Found out that he once
wanted to be in this industry but chose something with listening skills rather
than acting. Joe did listen intensely to
my movie script and slipped me a hundred dollars for a pirated copy.

My popularity as a
father had risen faster than the stock market as of late.
The above ground pool was almost full when I
pulled into the driveway and stepped into the backyard.
Kit jumped into my arms which spoke
volumes. Katy had a different response.

"Mom is
going to kill you. You don't have a job
and you're out golfing and buying a pool.
Have you lost your mind, Father?"

"At least you
don't call me old man like your lover."

She stormed off in
tears. It wasn't my role in life to make
people miserable, but revealing hypocrisy felt rather good.

Rodney wanted to
be a permanent fixture at our home. With
the addition of a swimming pool at his friend's house, Rodney really liked
being around the Briden kids. His call
from his mother wasn't a desperate plea to have her son returned, but to give
permission for me to keep him another day.
I sensed this was like a vacation to them.

Keith asked for
the car keys, very politely, mind you.
Wherever a brother and sister take off to discuss how much trouble
they're in or to find a bed is beyond me.
Though my boys wanted to go swimming, pronto, I made an agreement with
them. I'd make hot dogs and hamburgers
on the grill, if they continued the storyboards for me.
Kory surprised me by showing how they had
practiced that afternoon on several scenes.
They were now experts at table reading and recording the script.
Acting wasn't part of this, just exploring
what worked best with words.

While Kory played
the sea captain, Kyle and Rodney acted their part in one of the cabins on
ship. The acting was pathetic, though
funny. This wasn't a comedy, so I gave
them my honest viewpoint.

"Guys, your
acting is....well,.....it comes across as unnatural, superficial, and
laughable. This isn't what being in the
scene is all about. Forget the words
from the book, and put yourself at that moment what you would do and how you
would feel."

"Pretty bad,
wasn't it?" Kyle admitted.

"It's not
that you're not trying, son; it's that you're trying too hard.
If you had the same spontaneous, emotional
outpouring that you had last night in bed with Rodney, then acting becomes real
because the audience believes you're sincere."

I saw Rodney's,
Kit's and Kory's ears perk up. What did
I know about last night? Kyle saved me.

"Fathers
know all, sees all, and hears all. I'm
not ashamed of anything we did last night."

"Neither am
I," Kit said.

"What did
you see, Dad?" Kory asked.

"Let's say
you were auditioning and you were on tape.
Trust me, there was no acting and you all got the parts."
I reached in my wallet and pulled out four
hundred dollar bills, handing one to each of my sons and one to Rodney.
"Call it an audition."

The smiles
replaced any trepidation they had about an adult eavesdropping on their sexual
play. While devouring barbecued burgers in
the evening air, the boys' suggestions were the best brainstorm a director
could have. I agreed, Kyle would start
martial arts training immediately to play his role as a boy who was
self-confident and could stick up for Huck.
Rodney would have to learn as much about frigates as an experienced
seafarer. All this information was found
on the Internet, once I chased them away from the gay porn sites.

The house on our
left was a single family dwelling, but the one on the right had two stories, a
teenage girl and a twelve-year old boy.
The kid was often too busy with Little League and soccer, but he
occasionally played with Kit in our backyard whiffle ball games.
With the pool taking up most of the backyard,
such entertainment would have to be sacrificed for awhile.

Kit thought it
would be a cool idea to indoctrinate the pool, sans suits.
I didn't mind, only that they should wait
until darkness. Since the pool didn't
have a pool light, they would be safe from our neighbors' peering eyes from any
second story home.

The pool was much
bigger than I thought. A square, above
ground pool, it came with pool basketball, two rafts, and a rubber dart
game. When four pairs of butts hit the
water, Marco Polo and water polo became the games of choice.
Fifteen minutes later, four naked boys came
running to me, saying I could make it easy or hard.
I lowered my shorts and darted to the pool.
Though it was eight-thirty, our backyard was
hardly pitch black. I knew if the
neighbors weren't blind, naked bodies were glistening for their perusal.

Kit leaped on my
shoulders and we had a free-for-all in dismounting the other team.
No more had we been dethroned, then Kyle
jumped up, then Kory, and finally Rodney with a near boner sticking in my ear.
I now was beginning to get Alan Stroup's
version of what hanging around twelve boys might be like.
I wasn't sure I could survive their hormones.

Two hours went by
in minutes, when I saw Keith and Katy walk out on the patio.
Both had swimsuits on, but when Katy saw
Rodney's glistening bare bottom on one of the rubber rafts she realized that
she was amongst penises and balls.

"You guys
are disgusting!" she reacted and retreated.

"We have
nothing different than Keith!" Kory yelled and had Katy stall in her
tracks.

She calmly turned
around. "Look, guys, can't we show
a little maturity?"

"Maturity is
accepting people as they are," I spoke up.
"You certainly don't have the right to ridicule your brothers and
then pretend your behavior is beyond rebuke.
The boys aren't asking you to take off your swimsuit, but you've
certainly seen a naked boy before, so don't act all self-righteous."

Katy relented, as
did Keith. This was too much fun for any
teen to ignore. It wasn't like nudity
was blatant; the water was up to our chests and one would have no idea that
freedom from suits was prevalent. Fun
was the result for a group of teenagers and one parent.
I'm sure our neighbors now knew we had a
swimming pool.

The boys had no
reservation in taking time off to enjoy ice cream sandwiches, though Katy
stayed in the pool with me. She paddled
over on the raft until her nose was practically bumping into mine.

"Do you still
love me, Daddy?" she asked.

Dads have their
little princes and Katy had always been mine.
Cynthia was offish, above it all and indifferent to anything her father
could offer. I knew Katy's games when
she wanted something. In this case she
wanted to know I wasn't going to blow the whistle on her to her mother.

She wanted a kiss
on the lips as she puckered them up. I
kissed her on the forehead.Katy didn't
get what she wanted, so she pretended to fall off the raft and into my
arms. Her hands managed to slide over my
groin.

"Gee, Daddy,
you're naked, too." She giggled,
then put her back into my chest, grabbing my arms and circling her body.
"My brothers are so sexy," Katy
said with her eyes on four naked teens moving around the yard catching
fireflies.

"They are,
but it's important you find a male who you can take on dates and romance.
Keith should have the same motivation."

"You're
right, Daddy. I've tried to stop his
antics, but he keeps persisting."

"I'm not
buying all of that, but I'll talk to Keith."

"She spun
around to put her front to mine.
"Thanks, Daddy. This pool
was such a great idea. Mom is still
going to kill you."

"Probably," I replied and picked up my daughter to place her
back on the raft.

Time had no
relevancy with such fun, but the noise was likely to keep up our
neighbors. I told the boys they could
sleep outside on the patio. Keith and I
were finally alone so I could address a very important issue with him.

"Your sister
would like a little separation," I said.
"Whatever you two have had going I'm sure has prepared you for any
romantic endeavors."

I expected
resistance, but he concurred. "Katy
loves the attention. I've been hoping
she'd find her own boy. I like this girl
at school, so don't think I'm all stuck on my sister or anything."

"Good, then
we're on the same page here."

"Mom's not
going to tolerate my brothers running around without their clothes on," he
reminded me.

"And your thoughts on this?"

"Way too gay
for me, but to each his own." He
swam away from me with this conversation showing more civility.

Thankful that four boys were in their own sleeping bags on
the porch, I fell asleep quickly on the sofa bed.
In the middle of the night I awoke and was
sandwiched between Kyle and Rodney. I'd
find out later that the mosquitoes had driven these two inside.
Sandwiched was the word for the night because
they both had their legs and arms slung over my body.
There was a relief that my son wouldn't be
all sensual with another boy in bed.
Guess I forgot about the showing off part that teens like to do with
their peers. Having sex with your father
was never one of these things I thought a boy wanted to brag about.
As Kyle swept his naked body over mine, I
complained of a headache, which had Rodney laughing.
I put both boys' heads on my chest and worked
their natural male weaknesses--their backs with soothing finger brushes.

Almost asleep
Rodney's silent slumber was blissful. I
doubt if he'd ever experienced such a closeness with a male adult.
Kyle had other things in mind.
He lowered his head to my groin, then
proceeded to give me what I hadn't experienced in eighteen years of
marriage. Swallowing, his eyes rolled
upward to give me a teasing smile. Some
boy will find this kid the perfect lover someday.
He relaxed in my loose arm without giving me
a clue that he wanted his turn. I had a
feeling this was sex on credit and I now owed him big time.

Chapter Eight

Lucy arrived home
while I was at the golf course the next day.
Joe wanted to celebrate our victory by rubbing it in in front of his
fellow snobby members. He had to ask how
my evening went.

"Two boys,
both naked, one in each arm," I said with casual ease.
He chuckled, just knowing I was kidding.
I let it hang, which is a great way to
frustrate a psychologist.

Naturally, my
wife went bananas when she saw the pool and immediately told the boys to take
it down. They went so far as to drain
the pool, hoping I'd come home and save the day before they began on the nuts
and bolts.

To make matters
worse, our good Catholic neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, wandered over with a tale of
catching her twelve-year old son, Zach, playing with himself while watching a
group of naked boys swimming. Of course
she had taken it upon herself to see who these naked boys were and identified
them as the Briden children. She wasn't
positive that I had a swimsuit on either.

Another great
round of 71 had put me in a happy mood when I arrived back at the house.
Lucy vented her wrath that I had corrupted
her children and the neighborhood kids with indecency.
She wanted that pool removed within the hour
and all traces of pestilence gone from her eyesight.
I told her it wasn't happening.
As a matter of fact I made sure the pool was
refilled so she wouldn't have it taken down by the time I'd come back with my
sons for dinner.

During breakfast,
Lucy had stepped out of the kitchen for a few minutes when her cell phone
rang. I answered and the party hung
up. Half-hour later the phone rang
again, so I listened on the other side of the kitchen door.
Hearing only one side had me intrigued.

"Hi.........I must have gone upstairs for a moment..........Yes, I
can make it. What time?............Love
you too."

I dashed to the
living room and contemplated what that was all about.
There was some relief in knowing I wouldn't
have to stick around the house on a Saturday to make sure the pool wasn't torn
down. With Kyle invited over to Rodney's
for a change, I decided to follow my wife like a private detective.
When she pulled into the Imperial Motel, I
really had to wonder. I'd never want to
be an investigator, but this really intrigued me.
Two hours later she came out with the
president of our church, both looking way too refreshed to think this was just
a meeting of the minds. Sure, the guy
was good looking and had the charisma of a politician, but he was also married
with eight children. There were rumors
he had two women living with him, but that was kind of kept on the hush and
hush. There are certain Mormons who hang
on to the original Mormon customs, that being polygamy.

My sons wore
their swimsuits to appease all concerned, though their mother wanted nothing to
do with the pool. She wasn't speaking to
anyone, especially me. As the night wore
on, Kory was the first to discard his suit and float around on the rubber raft,
hoping that Mrs. Higgins was watching.
Naturally, Kit followed his brother, but with a hard-on to really excite
the neighbor kid, if not his mother. I
remained neutral on this aspect. It
wasn't long till Kory floated over and asked me questions that I wouldn't have
dared asked my own parents.

"Dad, which
is tighter, a boy's butt or a girl's vagina?"

A logical question
from even an adult, I thought.
"Son, there's no straight answer to that."
He laughed because of my pun.
"Really, it depends on age, experience,
and body type. Naturally a woman who has
had a few children won't be like a virgin.
Butts are pretty tight. Not that
I'd know this, but I have a little experience in comparison."

"Like Kyle's
to Mom's," he mentioned casually.

"Let's keep
that to ourselves," I said without further comment.

"Do women
like you to go down there with your tongue?"

"About as
much as you like someone going down on you.
It helps if they are clean and that's your thing.
I'm not much for that myself, but other men
find it arousing. Girls go
bonkers."

"Like
licking assholes, huh?"

"That's
pretty arousing, if I remember your expression on camera.
Like most sex acts, take a shower first and
smell super clean. It helps the giver as
well as the receiver."

"Yeah, that
felt really neat. Do girls like it up
the ass, too?"

"Not as much
as we do, but many don't mind. We have a
prostate, which makes a big difference in our enjoyment.
Anything else?"
I can't tell you how great I felt having one
of my sons ask me sex questions. Not in
a million years did I ever expect this a few weeks earlier.

Kory thought
about this. "Do women get wet like
we do?"

"When they
get turned on, they get very wet, just like you drip from your penis.
You've done a good job in foreplay if you can
get her wet."

Kit swam over,
wondering what we were talking about and listened intently.
He asked why our penis had a helmet on
it. "God's cute factor," I
told him and had them laughing.
"Really, guys, no one really knows that answer.
There's a guess that, when men were competing
for women in cavemen days, evolution gave us this aspect to swoop out other
men's sperm so they wouldn't compete with their own."

"You'd win
for sure, Dad," Kit said with praise.
I guess being a helmet head had its advantages.

Come Sunday, I
took the boys to a baseball game in Cincinnati.
Rodney was now an adopted son for all occasions, and Kit had invited
Jake. If I remembered the conversation,
Jake and Kit were hot for each other, but Jake had hopes that this was just a
stage. Didn't we all.

Jake was the
perfect audience for my youngest son's antics and jokes.
Always a giggle and encouragement, these two
were a handful when they were together.
Thankfully I had Kyle and Kory to punch, tickle and harass this younger
pair. All I had to do was keep their
mouths stuffed with hot dogs, peanuts, and ice cream during the game.
Their finest moment came when they retrieved
a foul ball together, then shared it back and forth every inning like it was
gold nugget.

When we returned
very late at night, my wife was absent, so I mentioned I was going to the
store, but Kyle and Kory piled in. My
little detour pass the Imperial Motel made their mother's car quite visible
from the road. Fortunately my sons
didn't notice.

Since I no longer
slept in the master bedroom, Lucy thought I wouldn't notice her absence.
I was actually hoping she wouldn't return in
the middle of the night because I allowed Rodney and Jake to sleep over.
Kory volunteered to sleep with me on the sofa
bed, as we watched with great laughter four boys playing twister in the nude
with their bodies covered with baby oil.
If Jake honestly felt he wanted to change after that sexual escapade he
was crazier than I thought.

After four
ejaculations I knew I had to intervene to save my sons' butts from their
mother, let alone, her wrath at me. Kory
followed me upstairs in our birthday suits, now that we were sure these four
were out of energy and sperm. Opening the
bedroom door might have shocked Jake, but the other three only smiled with the
mess they had made on the floor and each other.
With a towel in my hand I wiped each of their feet and pointed toward
the master bathtub. If Lucy came home at
that time, there would have been hell to pay with six naked males, four of them
covered in baby oil, traipsing around in her bedroom.Leave it to Kit to pour his mother's bubble
bath in the water. The bathtub barely
fit four teens, so I let them look like bubble kids for a few minutes in play, and
then directed them downstairs and out into the pool.
They thought this whole adventure was
hilarious, while I had to go room to room as a cleaning service.
There was one gratuity, I heard Jake tell Kit
that he had a cool dad. My one redeeming
quality was this word.

Lucy came home at
four in the morning. Kory informed me of
this. I waited with bated breath the
next morning to hear my wife's raised voice that she noticed something out of
place or that the bathtub had been abused.
My cleaning had been spotless to succeed in this mission.
Fortunately she went to bed and slept through
the morning, while I quietly fixed breakfast for seven teenagers and managed to
get all of them out of the house before they woke up the woman of the house.

That same day I
stopped by the motel, checked in to the same room and planted my video
peeper. This was definitely felony caper
material, but I was getting really good at this.
Now all I had to do was keep an eye on my
wife's comings and goings.

On Tuesday my father-in-law
wanted me in his foursome.
I knew what that meant and the lecture that
would come with it. Though he knew I
wasn't working, he still expected the $50 a hole bet, just knowing I'd lose by
a stroke or two. I brought Kyle as my
caddy.

"Make it a
hundred a hole," I said.

"That
desperate, huh? You're like a gambler,
Bradley, putting all your money on one bet and hoping for the best.
I hate to see you fail again in front of my
grandson. He's going to think of you as
a real loser, if he doesn't already."

"My dad's
not a loser, Grandfather," Kyle abruptly said and put his arm around me.

"You're too
young to know better, scamp. You can
come to me for your allowance from now on because your father will be
bankrupt."

"Then let's
make it a thousand a hole and a thousand a stroke." I said it out enough
to put the old fart on the spot.

His two cronies
would have loved to see the old man back down.
His pride was too big to cave in to a wuss for a son-in-law.
I knew my game had been excellent as of
late. I just didn't know how well.
With Kyle as my caddie I birdied the first
three holes. My putter was on fire.
At the end of the first nine I had a 33,
eleven strokes ahead and hadn't even lost a hole.
By the eighteenth, my birdie made it a 66, my
best score ever, and I won by twenty strokes.
Kyle gave me a huge hug with multiple kisses on the face.

"That will
be thirty-six thousand," Kyle told his grandfather.

"Watch your
mouth, boy!" the old man snapped back.
Kyle retreated closer to my side, having seen a side of his grandfather
that he'd never witnessed.

In front of his
golfing buddies he wrote the check out for the total amount, called me the
luckiest stiff he'd ever known, and told me I'd need the money to pay child
support.

"I should
have beaten the stuffings out of you years ago, but I felt sorry for you,"
I said.

"Is that
so? You and my queer grandson aren't
invited on this course again!"

Even a fifteen-year
old isn't immune to cruel words from someone he thought loved him and who he had
loved dearly. I moved the old man to
this side by moving my arm around his shoulders in a friendly escort.

"I'm not one to
strike a senior citizen, but you either apologize to your grandson or I'll deck
your homophobic ass right here in front of your snobbish cohorts."

This piece of
shit jerked himself out of my grasp and walked solemnly over to his grandson,
whispered something in my son's ear and moved off without looking back.
Later on I found out that he had told Kyle
that I was coward for a father. I went looking for him in the club house a few
minutes later. Found out that he had
hastily departed the country club.

Kyle hid his
tears while we walked to our car in the parking lot.
This time my arm went around him.
I apologized for the way some people
behave. My boy snuggled up shoulder to
shoulder with me in the car. If he
expected all adults to love him and accept his sexuality he was going to be
very disappointed with life.

"Hey, kiddo,
if you get bored tonight and need to talk, the couch is open," I said to
cheer him up.

"Won't our
shrink get a cow?" he asked me with a subdued smile.

"We were
doing pretty well without a third party.
It helps at times to get a spectator's point of view."

Kyle giggled and
hugged me tighter.

By Wednesday I had
my first successful wife tracking and computer imagery right from the parking
lot. Lucy had thought she was so coy and
sneaky for me not to notice her tryst with another man.
Truth be told, this guy had abilities in bed
that weren't in my repertoire. No wonder
she wanted to extend her stay in Columbus.
She hadn't done those things to me since our first year of marriage, and
she wasn't very good at them then. One
thing for sure, my expertise in bed was no match for Thierian.

My future ex had
acted quicker than I was willing to give her credit.
On Friday she handed me the divorce papers,
told me to move out, and had split our account, which meant half of my $500,000
was hers. She didn't care where it had
come from because I owed it to her. Her
boyfriend was excommunicating me from the church, as if that hurt.

God I hate
lawyers, but I contacted one to understand my rights here.
Discussing this with my sons, only Keith
wished to stay. I rented a townhouse
with two bedrooms. There wouldn't be any
skinny dipping, but we had our freedom.
It was the beginning of a custody fight and I had some reserve
ammunition.

We had a family
meeting to explain what a divorce meant.
Lucy expected to retain custody of Kit and Kory, almost demanding their
cooperation.

"I'm gay
like Kyle," Kit spoke up which surprised everyone but Kyle, Kory and me.

"You're just
saying that to appease your father," his mother retorted.

"Enough!" Lucy vented.
"You boys can side up with whomever you want for the time being,
but you will end up living with me in the end.
Don't expect to run amok when you return.
There will be rules and responsibilities that
every teenager must learn."

"Don't count
on it," Kyle said and stormed out to pack his belongings.

"Let's not
to this," I said. "I mean, I
understand our differences have become irreparable, but our children are not
possessions that we have to fight over.
They are each old enough to know who they want to live with.
It's not like we won't live close enough that
visitation is available."

"Maybe for
you, Bradley, but I'm their mother and the best parent for them.
The church can become their father, a better
one than you have provided. I can't
believe you have your own sons naked for all the neighbors to see.
And then my own father says you threatened
him with a golf club. How could you?"

"Yes, of
course, let's keep our children bundled up in secrecy and shame.
God forbid they express themselves with the
beauty they have. While you think you've
protected these kids from reality, they have found the truth and do what they
want behind our back. As for your poor excuse for a father, he called Kyle a
faggot, and he's lucky he hustled home before I flattened his fat ass."
I wasn't exactly telling on my incestuous son
and daughter, but I had my kids on the edge of their chairs hoping I wouldn't.

"As if
you're privy to our children's lives," Lucy told me.

"Rather
obtuse thinking," I shot back.

Damn if she
didn't have the pool removed by that afternoon.

The townhouse had
three bedrooms, but one of them was my office, studio, and storage area for the
boys' possessions; plus, I bought some weights and a bench to add a little
weight. The truth being, it was sort of
cool having teenagers sexualize me. I
didn't realize how quickly the boys would make this their hangout.

We made an
agreement that one of them could sleep in my bed each night.
I spent twenty thousand on furniture and five
of this on the 55" digital screen the boys wanted.

Kyle was in his
second week of martial arts training, private lessons in tae kwon do and
Aikido. With his money Kyle bought three
Jackie Chan movies and began practicing the choreography of amusing antics with
Rodney. My concentration on these two
was focused on creating a desire for each other, not just a friendship based on
sex. They didn't know it, but I kept
interfering with their little escapades of horniness.
I asked each one, like this was an assignment
for the movie, to write down what they liked about each other, their
attractions, and expectations. Resistant
at first, they gradually discovered they each had these thoughts and feelings.
I also let it be known that there would be
new boys and these teens would be a challenge to their relationship with each
other. Of course they denied that
anything could come between them.
Gradually I was building a bond around possessiveness.

As entertainment
in the evenings, I showed films that related to their age: Get Real, Beautiful
Thing, Lakki the Boy Who Could Fly, and others.
They worked. The boys couldn't
wait to see a new movie every night.
Their self-esteem was already good with their sexuality; now it was
building to martyrdom.

Alan Stroup
called on a daily basis, not surprised that my marriage had hit the dumps, but
always supportive. He recommended that I
bring the boys to Florida, where we could do rehearsals and begin the
groundwork for a month of filming. This sounded premature, but I'd think about
it.

Our new townhouse
was about five miles from where we used to live and a block away from a golf
course. The boys were very helpful in the move and unpacking.
Preparing a new home with kitchen ware and
furniture was a job by itself. As a gift
for all their help, we also went on a shopping spree to purchase underwater
equipment for filming. The SCUBA gear
would be rented when we got where we were going.
I made several last minute trips to the store
to buy all that we had forgotten.

I was tired and
ready to take my sons to a restaurant so I wouldn't have to cook.In the middle of the living room were seven
naked boys doing break dancing on a wet piece of plastic.
Two of these youngsters I'd never seen before.
Their faces went white with fear, while my
sons, with Jake and Rodney, smiled with my presence.

"Ah, what's
this all about?" I questioned. The
new boys dashed for their clothes.

Kit spoke right
up. "Dad, this is Mike and Louis,
they live a few doors down. Mike has
this slip and slide which really works well for dancing."

In the last month
I was this new father, the cool dad who didn't trip on boyish humor or the
secrets of sex. It would have been real
easy to slip to the pedantic parent, but I took a deep breath because I had two
scared boys, fourteen or so, afraid that the world had come to an end and their
parents would know they were in another townhouse dancing in the nude.

"The only
problem I have here is the carpet. Water
and shag carpets don't get along and we'll have a floor of mildew in
weeks."

"We'll dry
the carpet, Dad," Kyle said to assuage the situation.
"Can we show you our moves?"

I tossed the
packages on the sofa and took a sit.
"Okay, who's first?"

The newcomers
relaxed and placed their clothes back down, wondering if this was a trick.
Kit went first and did these spins and crazy
antics that showed assholes and balls.
It was funny, I'll give them that much.
Mike was the expert, but it took a lot of persuasion for the boy to show
me his moves. An offer of dinner at the
local pizza place was a reward for their performance, so everyone took their
turn.

There were new
ground rules on a daily basis. This
slip-and-slide was a one-time thing. I
showed them the underwater camera and said they could practice, but with suits
on. That established the next morning's
plan of excitement that had everyone anticipating fun in the pool.

My next goal was
to visit Rodney's and Jake's parents for permission to take him.
Mr. Miller was a successful athlete in his
prime, a man who had aspirations for his son, their only child.
I saw in this man a hard-nosed individual who
wanted to continue his frustration in achieving athletic glory in his son.
Instead of football, Rodney had chosen
diving. The boy's father wasn't this pot-bellied,
beer drinking, couch potato that he had described.
Personally I wouldn't want to tangle with the
character.

They wanted to
know everything about this movie that their son would act in and was talking
nonstop about for two weeks about. I sat
there with a smile on my face as Rodney glared at me with hope.
For that split second that our eyes met I saw
the beauty of his soul, a son his parents didn't know but I did.
Few people rarely watch another human being
doing sexual acts, the energy, facial contortions, raw animal animation that
makes us sexual beings. Porn is hardly reality.
In one night their son had gone through a smorgasbord of gay sex, minus
fisting. What if his parents knew that
their son held my boy's legs spread apart into a V and fucked him with a skill
that just seemed inbred? What if they
knew that this gorgeous son had slept naked next to me and had held our bodies
close because, for some reason, he wanted to be held by an older male?
I could guess that Rodney's dad had no idea
how to raise a gay son, but I didn't either until a few weeks earlier.

I ran the
scenario down. "It's about an
orphanage for boys, and one of them would be your son.
He loves ships, is a loner, but has a
grandfather who sends him things discreetly without revealing who he really
is. Another boy has just lost his
parents and becomes your son's friend.
Every summer the orphanage has excursions.
This summer twelve boys are picked to go out
on a sailing vessel. Because of your
son's love for the seas, he's named Huck; thus, the title of the movie, THE HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES.
When the selected sailing vessel is found
unavailable in dry dock, the harbor offers their eighteenth century frigate, a
ship they allow out on the seas once a year."

I watched closely
for any negative impact. So far they
were listening. "It's quite an
adventure when the orphanage's director is accidently killed and this nefarious
sea captain takes over the ship with ulterior aims to sail toward the
Bahamas."

"Sounds like
quite an undertaking, Mr. Briden," Mrs. Miller said with an impressed
grin.

"My boy has
no acting skills and is never been on a boat in his life," Mr. Miller told
me, but more of a reality check than a rebuttal.
The man was actually demoting his own son
because of his own conceived deficiency in acting.

"No
problem. Huck, I mean, Rodney, has been
studying his nautical skills and seamanship.
He will have plenty of coaching.
Acting isn't all that great of a skill, and kids have a tendency to do
it naturally when given the proper leads."

"You sound
way too optimistic with a boy who has to be nudged constantly just to do his
homework," Mr. Miller said as another put down.

"Sometimes a
kid has an internal inspiration to do something that just seems right for
him," I said honestly and wasn't so sure I was talking about acting.
"There is one more thing.
The boys have scenes of skinny dipping and we
need parental permission for nude scenes."

Mrs. Miller
laughed. "My son is as modest as
they come, Mr. Briden. He won't let me
see him in his underwear. In fact he
wears two swimsuits because he's afraid one might slip and show someone he has
a cute butt. Maybe you should get his
permission first."

"Ever think
that the girls might find that cute?
Might be a way to find a girlfriend in your life.
It's about time, if you ask me."
Obviously Mr. Miller was skeptical with his
son's sexual orientation.

"I didn't
ask," Rodney said under his breath.

"Don't get
smart with me, boy, or you can sit on your butt all summer."

"Sorry,
Dad. I guess skinny dipping is
fun," Rodney said as if to somewhat agree with his father.

"And you
know this how?" his father asked.

A slight
hesitation, and my gulp, Rodney blurted out, "It's not like there aren't
backyard pools in the neighborhood."

Fortunately his father chuckled.
"Next thing we know he'll be looking to
get laid." The man looked at me for
support. I faked a smile.

"Sweetie,
that's no way to talk to your son," Mrs. Miller admonished the man of the
house. She turned toward me.
"He will be able to call every day,
right, Mr. Briden?"

"You baby
the boy too much, Alice. I don't want to
hear his whiny voice tell us that he misses your cooking."

I chuckled.
"I'll make sure he's well fed and taken
care of. My own sons will make sure of
that." The contracts that Alan had
sent me were signed for what they were worth.
When I mentioned the one-hundred thousand their son was getting, I
thought Mrs. Miller was going to faint.

"That'll
reimburse us for all the stress the boy puts us through," his father said.

"Now, Carl,
Rodney will need that money for college," Mrs. Miller replied to her
husband's smile.

From the Miller's
to Jake's home, the two-story Tutor was only a half-mile from our
townhouse. That meant these two seventh
graders would be inseparable from now on.
The Thompson's home was very middle class with three other children, two
older, one younger. By the lack of
interest from his siblings, I figured that Jake just sort of existed in this
family and no one really knew he was this gay thirteen-year old who was in love
with my son.

John Thompson was
a couch potato, a button pusher at the local sanitation treatment plant.
He offered me a beer. Since I wasn't a
practicing Mormon anymore I gladly accepted.
Mrs. Thompson was busy putting together a snack tray for me.
I ran the scenario down, which was all news
to Jake's parents. They were concerned
that he'd miss his gymnastic workouts, but I assured them I'd have Kit and
their son practice daily. I had no idea
how I would do that.

Rodney was as
quiet as Jake was at his house, deciding on a rocking chair that no one else
seemed interested in. He smiled through
this whole ordeal and declined a bottle of beer that Jake's dad offered in all
sincerity. Mrs. Thompson made sure the
boys had Pepsi's.

"We can't
afford to send our kids to any camp," Mr. Thompson came right to the
point.

"That won't
be necessary, your son will be paid for his service," I said, which
brought a gleam to this father's eye.
"There is a scene of the boys swimming in their birthday
suits. I'll need your permission to film
your son."

"Where do I
sign?" his father joked. A girl
taller than Jake, but a year younger, strolled through this family room in a
bikini bottom and a sock top. Her father
grabbed her arm, swung his daughter over his lap and spanked her bare bottom in
front of me after he had lowered his suit.
She giggled with the attention and didn't seem fazed that her rear had
been exposed. "Don't suppose you
need a pretty female in your movie? Leah
is one hot number."

Not that I would
call any of my daughters one hot number, but, to each his own.
Jake was hardly shocked by this show of
affection, but I politely said that this movie had all boys as the main
actors. Mr. Thompson had no qualms of
pulling up her daughter's top and showing off her growing breast. I thought of
Dr. Sproveri and his interpretation of this affection.

"My little
girl would make a perfect mermaid for all your naked boys," Tom told me
without the slightest hesitation.Leah
stood up and all but auditioned for me as a nubile Brook Shields.

"Yes, she
would turn heads, all right, but I'd never get our boys' heads straight
again," I humored.

"Oh, their
heads would be straight, that's for sure."

"Don't be so
crass in front of visitors," Mrs. Thompson corrected her husband, as if
this hands on approach was a daily event.
Actually, I think she was a little embarrassed.
The lady of the house was sweet and very
supportive of Jake. She actually took
the contract and signed it without reading the particulars.
"Better keep your eye on this one, he's
madly in love with your son."

Jake just smiled
and accepted this truth. Mr. Thompson's
face didn't show any concern either way.
No one asked the dates or any other particulars like Rodney's parents
had. Rodney just sat there in amazement
and was appalled at this young nymph who was practically naked in performance
for her guests. My thoughts ran to Joe's
comments about family incest. I suppose
this is how it starts, if it wasn't going on already.
Joe had said that mother and son
relationships were far more common but far less reported.
While men were considered dirty old men in
such affairs, women were nurturing, loving, and just needed loved by a
surrogate male in place of an absent father.
Boys saw this as a rite of passage, a gift from a loving female.
Girls like Leah might love this attention at
first, but resent it as she matures. I
wasn't in position to rain on anyone's parade.
She didn't bother raising her bikini and sat on her father's leg, while
he wrapped her chest within the confines of his fingers.
This was a prime example of daddy's little
girl.

A scan at Jake
and our eyes connected like I had with Rodney's expression about his father at
his house. I had to wonder if I was the
only adult who had seen him with practically a constant hard-on, a boy like my
own son who saw his sexuality as a constant play thing.
The excitement of going through puberty had
to be confusing and fun.

I brought Rodney
and Jake back to the townhouse and we giggled without saying much during the
two-mile ride. They ran off to the pool
while I made dinner. This wasn't exactly
something I was good at, cooking. The
boys didn't mind my version of hamburger and beans, hot dogs and beans, and
trout and beans. It did make for
interesting farting contests.

Their underwater
photography was about as sexual as if they had taken off their trunks.
There's dry humping and water humping I
discovered. Projections in their
swimsuits were enough to drive any other swimmer from the water.
I was glad there were no other residents
wanting to use the pool that afternoon.
My sons were learning more about these cameras than I was, so I listened
closely and took notes. I volunteered to
do the photography the next day if they weren't so blatantly horny for each
other.

Kory mentioned
that Mike and Louis wanted to be in the movie.
As easy as that sounded to have two more actors, we were in Ohio and
most parents just wouldn't give permission for their boys to travel to Florida
with a stranger for a month. I sat the
boys down.

"What do you
know about acting?" I asked with hopes that this might scare them off.

Louis had been in
a school play, could swim, and didn't mind doing anything naked.
What will your parents say?
I had given him the major obstacle.

"My parents
won't mind," Mike said rather abruptly.

"What do you
think of gay boys your age?"

"Who
cares?" Mike said. "I've
fooled around."

"I'm not
asking if you're gay, just that there won't be any remarks or homophobia on set
or off," I warned.

"What's
homophobia?" Mike asked.

"If you
don't know what it is, that's a good start.
I have to have your parents' permission to film you nude.
There's skinny dipping in the movie.
Any problems?"

"Not
here," Mike said and added, "We have a pool in the backyard.
My parents swim naked when we're not
around."

Louis, on the
other hand, wasn't so sure. His father
was a local police officer, so I handled this one with kid gloves and received
a polite 'No thank you.' My sons didn't
see much of Louis again.

I took a good
look at the characters of the movie and decided that Mike would fit in.
I still needed two blacks, a Mexican, and an
Oriental. With seven spots filled, I'd
saved the hardest for last.

That evening I
went to visit this boy's parents. They
looked me over as if I was a pedophile or their son's lucky star.
A movie director had found their boy
attractive and wanted him in a movie.
That's how they saw it. Of course
I made sure to take my three sons with me.
It's better for someone to know you're married and my children were at
least smiling.

Mike beat me to
the punch that would likely be the deal breaker.
"I get to skinny dip."

Both parents
glanced at me. "No sex," I blurted out. "We feel it's what boys would do given
the scenario. They're out in the ocean and
do what comes natural."

Mike's father
glanced at his son. "Watch out for
sharks. I don't want to send my son out only to have a daughter return."

We laughed.
Matter closed.

Chapter Nine

Having seven boys
running around in an 800-square foot townhouse was maddening.
Kyle had ripped up an old sheet, to hear him
tell it, and made eight fundoshi; those are loincloths like in the novel, The Art of Loyalty.
I suppose it beats having all these penises
flopping about, though we agreed this was now a man's castle.

They spent the
evening searching the Internet for boy stuff.
Not porno, per se, but boys put some really crazy antics on the
Internet. Some of their antics bordered
on porn, yet this is the world we live in today when kids know all about what
gay boys do and how to gross out adults who think boys shouldn't know all this.
My childhood was void of the Internet. An occasional Playboy was pure luck. Now
my sons go on the Internet, type in nude boys or girls and they get an instant
sex education class.

What I wouldn't
have ever thought of doing when I was fourteen, boys put on their small video
cameras to show the world. I had to adjust my eyes to these shagging videos
where boys had instant hard-ons to tease the viewer.
There were these webcams from all over Europe,
kids showing off their talents, their skin, and their humor.
Kory wanted to know if they could put their
swim video on site. I'd have to think
about that one.

Kyle and Rodney
weren't too happy that I wouldn't allow them again to sleep together.
They didn't like my little experiment of
keeping them at distance until we were ready to film.
I saw the tension build, that spark of
longing that went beyond mere friendship.
Maybe this was working, but I didn't want them to go looking for others
to be intimate with.

When I arrived
back after taking Rodney and Jake home, Kory and Kit were in my bed ready for
sleep. Kyle was in a rotten mood and
wanted to sleep alone. The new king size
bed was becoming more useful than I thought.
With a son on each side, those two started rehashing their day and
creating giggles. It was a chore to get
them quiet. There's something about
teenage years that kids should stay up till midnight and sleep until nine.

So we're finally
at peace when Kory says, "You can jack off if you want, Dad."
Of course Kit found that hilarious.

"Are you
saying that to give yourself permission?
Do your own thing if you're in the mood," I said.

"My dick is
sore. I jacked off two times in the
pool, once this morning and once in the bathroom," Kory informed us.

"Why would
you guys masturbate in the swimming pool?" I had to ask.

"We wanted
to see if the sperm started swimming.
They didn't put on much of a show."

"Do you have
any idea that you violated pool policy?
There's a sign there that says no more than 50 people can occupy the
pool, but now there's hundreds of millions of baby sperm swimming about.
You'll have to report yourself to the manager
around here."

Kit was busting
up and thinking this was now comedy hour.
"What if a girl goes swimming, Dad, can one of those sperm swim up
her bathing suit?"

I smacked his
bottom. "Sure can.
You guys will impregnate every female who
goes swimming there in the next few days."
I had them both thinking, but Kory was analyzing that one pretty good.

"I bet the
chlorine will kill the suckers," Kory thought.

I played this one
to the hilt. "I don't know.
Sperm are really tough little creatures.
They survive in a woman's vagina for up to
three days. I'm thinking you guys could
be fathers within nine months."

"Wow!
When I'm 21, my son will be eight.
That will be so cool," Kit said.
Kory and I pulverized him.

None of us were exactly
tired, and Kory started asking if males had G-spots, what's a prostate good
for, can we have multiple orgasms, or how does one stop a really quick urge to
ejaculate? These were questions I hadn't
even considered in college. The Internet
was exposing these kids to a world ahead of their times.

There was a
little practical application since we had three anatomies present, and we
assisted Kit through his ejaculation by giving him some pointers on
masturbation. All in all, it wasn't a
typical night out for father and sons, or maybe it was for the Briden
household.

I did feel sorry
for my twin boy, so I strolled out. Kyle
told me he knew I'd come, flipped his boner out, and the debt was paid.
It was amazing how quickly his mood improved.

With one complete
bathroom there was no privacy. Shit,
shower, shave and brush teeth; one boy at each station with me on the
shaver. Kit had no qualms about peeing
between your legs while you were on the throne.
A little misdirected urine to the balls Kory
flick his brother's penis. Pee flew and splattered three other boys. Into the
shower another parade started.

No clothes became the norm because no one had
secrets. We had one rule: sex was about giving, not receiving.
Even if you came first, you always made sure
the other person had his pleasure.

Every night a
person was given a full body massage by the other three.
This became so popular I even looked forward
to it. A standard expectation was that
everyone showered before pleasure. My
sons were the cleanest kids in the neighborhood.

In the morning I
took the boys to a non-denominational church.
We didn't have a Metropolitan church in the area, like many of the
bigger cities did for a variety of sexual orientations and beliefs.
This church was accepting and far more
tolerant than the fundamentalist congregations in the area.

I realized the
boys were questioning their faith, their beliefs, and why this might be
different than Mormonism. The pastor was
this young, terrifically good looking man, who had the charisma of a young
Billy Graham. He took particular
interest in my boys, a new addition to his growing church.
We had caught eyes halfway through the
sermon, and my heart speeded up with his repeated glances.
It was the first time I ever had an erection
during church.

After church
service we were quickly sought out by the reverend.
I made sure to loiter and expressed that the
boys were brought up Mormon, but we were looking for answers elsewhere.
The pastor offered to sit down with us and
help the boys with this transition. A
quick invitation by me to dinner would accomplish this.

My boys went
swimming to see what females would show up to get pregnant, I'm sure, while I
went grocery shopping. I returned to
find my sons and friends on an Internet gay porn site.
They knew this was off limits, so I sent
their friends home and put them on restriction.
The three of them marched into the kitchen and wanted to discuss this
punishment.

Kyle was apparently
chosen the spokesperson. "Dad, we
know how you feel about being eighteen and all, but those sites are just
teenagers like ourselves. Why can we
express our sexuality and not watch others?
We even learn a few new things."

This was a tough
situation for me. I'd created an open
environment for the boys, one they could feel comfortable being themselves
without judgment. My hypocrisy was being
questioned and I could have stood my ground like a stubborn parent who
pretended to know everything.

I invited the
boys to the dining room table, which was fashionably arranged for the night's
occasion. "There is a healthy way
of being sexual, and an addictive way of acting out.
I'm not saying that watching boys have sex is
wrong, but it can present a compulsive need to make this your sexual
outlet. Watching porn can be as
addictive as gambling, drinking, or taking drugs.
It becomes an obsession.
You sexualize any male or female as sexual
creatures that are only good for one thing.
I suppose it's why I'm keeping Kyle and Rodney apart.
I want them to want each other out of love,
not because they need to get their rocks off.
If they can see that sex is a result of their
desire for each other, love will become the impetus, not the emotion before
orgasm that you love this person because he makes your balls tingle."

They laughed,
but I knew they'd deny any potential for addiction.
"Look, guys, I appreciate that you
weren't sneaky by watching porn behind my back, though you knew my boundary on
this and you still did it. Just because
I allow you in my bed and we share some intimate moments does not make me one
of your peers. I'll always be your
father, for better or worse. You can
sexualize me, too, think of me as just an older guy who has a thicker penis
than you do. I love and respect you
boys; I expect the same in return. Okay,
an occasional boy web site isn't going to hurt you, but don't make it a habit."

This time there
were smiles, a massive leap upon me and hands and kisses all over my body.
Resistance was futile with their combined
weight and lightweight punches to my body.
The doorbell rang. The boys
scrambled, with Kit the first to the door.
He faked opening it, with me hustling to get up and way too disorganized
in an attempt to get my bearings. My
sons laughed, shoved me in the kitchen, before inviting Pastor McKinley
inside. Seeing three boys' smiles had
him wondering what he had walked into.

"Be right
out, Pastor!" I yelled from the kitchen.
I moseyed out a minute later to the giggles of my sons.
In corduroy shorts, my shirt was in disarray
and I was red in the face. I shook hands
and departed to grab a towel.It wasn't
my best greeting, but I made sure when the pastor wasn't looking that I pointed
my finger at these three that there would be revenge.

During dinner the
topic came around to Mormonism. Pastor McKinley
told us to call him Paul, so that was now his name.
He was tactful in how he approached this with
the boys.

"The Mormon
Church strives with great effort to masquerade as the Christian church complete
with an exclusive message, infallible prophets and higher revelations for a new
concept that the Mormons would have us believe began with Joseph Smith Jr.They use biblical terms and phrases and
even adopt Christian doctrines in order to claim allegiance to the Christian
faith. The Mormons believe that they are
already the sons of God and that the acceptance of God merely enables them to "continue
to be the sons of God," a direct contradiction of the biblical record,
which states according to John 1:12, "But an many as received Him, to them
gave the power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His
name."

Paul took a sip
of water and wanted to know if he was being too aggressive with his
denunciation of Mormonism. The boys
shook their heads that this information was interesting.
Kyle, my religious expert on the Old
Testament couldn't resist.

"Pastor,
sir, was there really naked prophets dancing for God?"

I wasn't so sure
about all this and thought Paul would laugh.
He didn't. "Son, nakedness
not only meant to be possessed by God but also to be possessed by phallic
powers. It became a badge of
identification with and submission to the erotic power of Yahwah, as they
called God at the time. Men and boys
prostituted themselves to being faithful with ecstasy long before Saul and
David wanted this phallic power."

"What's a
phallic?" Kit asked. Kory grabbed
his brother's dick and that settled that.
I was glad Paul found this humorous.

Kyle was really
pleased. "So whirling and dancing in the nude is being possessed by
God? That is so cool.
I do that all the time."

Paul laughed so
hard he ripped a fart. He was already
one the boys, adopted, that is. "I
would hope you're a prophet, young man, and it is true that possession by the
spirit of the Lord is an overpoweringly erotic, indeed sexual, experience.
They were called nabi'im as a bodily sign of
being chosen as God's favorite."

"So God had his boy-toys," Kit
surmised and actually got a nod from Paul.

"They became
his "armor-bearers", like Saul and David," Paul explained.
"Naked cavorting in ecstasy is something
"prophets" do."

I knew Kit would
say he wanted to be a prophet. "It
really says that?" I questioned out of curiosity.

"Samuel
ten," Paul answered. This man
really knew his Bible.

"Prophets
had sex with boys and offered sexual services as a way of honoring God,"
Kyle informed us. This kid had learned
too much.

"Samuel,
chapter seven," Paul complimented.
"The mysterious qedeshim, the male cult prostitutes, as they are
sometimes called. They were associated
with the temple in which Yahwah is honored. You have studied, young
Briden."

Kyle beamed with
a smile. "I just like sex.
But I also feel that God likes me because he
gave me my father."

I was humbled, to
say the least.

Paul wanted to put
this discussion into perspective.
"I sense an acceptance of homosexuality here.
God's emotional and social life is certainly
directed to human beings. Insofar as God
is represented as a person, and even a male, the erotic finds expression not in
relation to a consort but in relation to the humans he has chosen as his
companions, friends, and lovers. It's a
study that provokes Christianity, less than the Jews.
God's love for beautiful boys is a topic best
left for beautiful boys and prophets."

"That's
us," Kit replied.

"I like
these guys," Paul announced catching his breath and added, "I don't
want to bore the boys with Christian doctrine, or the Mormons intolerance of
blacks or homosexuals. They are simply a
cult within themselves, with their own language of God's choosing.
But such nonsense cannot be ignored by anyone
who takes seriously the revelations of Scripture and apostolic authority."

"Why are
they mad at us?" Kit perked up to question.

Paul appeared
puzzled. "Why would they be mad at
you, young man?"

"Kyle and I
are gay."

"Oh," Paul
said and glanced at me to see my reaction.
I waited for his response.
"For the same reason other denominations aren't tolerable, they use
biblical doctrine to support their prejudices.
The Bible doesn't say anything about homosexuality and one has to
understand the laws of the Jews and what the actual Greek words of the Bible
actually meant. They've been construed,
twisted, revised, and formulated to meet the biases of men who weren't even
alive during Christ's era. They
certainly had no idea about sexual orientation, its origin, genetic structure,
or God's plan. Man has simply decided
for themselves that God loves some people more than others.
A disturbing misconception.
God doesn't judge, nor care what sexuality
you are. If one truly interpreted the
Old Testament, even with the watered down version of the Chronicler, it would
appear God loved nothing better than a naked male."

"That's what
I think," Kit admitted.

"How about
dessert?" Kory asked to get off the uncomfortable subject and probably
because he didn't consider himself homosexual.

"How about
you guys going for a swim, then we'll have sex afterwards," I said.

They all gave me this stare, but then Kit
busted up and Kyle asked me if I knew what I'd said.
Paul had to take a sip of water again, he was
laughing so hard. When I found out my
slip of the tongue, I apologized immensely, but Paul found it too amusing to
take it back now.

Kyle and Kory
asked the pastor if he wanted to go for a swim, as well.
He agreed, but hadn't brought a suit.
"I have one that's kinda big for
me," Kyle said.

"I hardly
think that our visitor can fit into one of your swimsuits," I said.

"I'm pretty
thin in the waist," Paul admitted and off they went to the boys' bedroom.

I heard laughter
at first, then a thump. I dashed to the
room and saw our visitor on the floor with these Speedos around his
thighs. He'd given it his best try, but
30" racing trunks weren't quite large enough for an adult.
Kit was naked and had a hard-on, which had me
snap my fingers for him to get his trunks on.

"I wish I had
such an effect on a few men in my congregation," Paul admitted and pretty
much gave up that he was gay.

I recommended a
pair of my shorts for the pastor, and he had no reservation in walking stark
naked to my room. He had a great body
for a preacher, but we found out later that he was a true jock and conducted
all sorts of athletic teams as part of the church.
This really enthused my sons to part of his
congregation, especially Kory.

Off we ventured
to the pool, as the boys teased the pastor about not gulping any water.
I gave them this warning stare not to go
there. Paul was great with the boys, and
they fell in love with him in minutes. I
was concerned that the boys were getting too comfortable around adults, being
too open, which could easily embarrass an adult who wasn't quite concerned
about reputation and how any acts of a sexual nature could be perceived.
Paul already had an idea that my sons were
uninhibited and were fairly open-minded.
For Kit to show his erection to practically a complete stranger
concerned me, but was waved off by Paul as a gay boy's reaction to a nude man
who had stumbled with all parts revealed.

On the pool deck
the subject soon became one of the movie, and Paul showed great interest.
He wanted all the details and if I needed any
extras or cameo appearances. I expressed
I was looking for a director for the orphanage, though I had projected an older
man. Paul lit up, saying if I didn't
find anyone, he would like the role.

"You would
have to put up with twelve teenage boys," I said to see his reaction.

"That would
be a challenge, but so is a church full of men and women who have found that
life isn't always fair," Paul said.

I liked this guy
and felt I could tell him anything.
"I have two gay sons and two straight ones.
Kory blends right in because sex with his
brothers is a lot easier than finding the right girl.
Keith, my oldest, isn't ready to be part of
the lives of his siblings."

Paul sat up on
the pool deck and placed his hand on my forearm.
I liked the romantic gesture.
"They grow up quick, Brad, so love them
and give them proper direction while you can.
I'd rather see a loving boy than one who's on drugs or is violent."

"Can I love
them too much?" I asked but wasn't so sure I should have.
It might have revealed too much.

"You know
what you have to do to maintain discipline and control of your sons.
Sometimes mothers and fathers can become too
close of friends and kids will take advantage of that.
Other times they can see that this love is
honest and giving. It has to be their
choice, Brad, not yours. If they can
trust you that you have their best interest in mind, nothing is inconceivable.

With the cherry
pie I'd bought at Marie Calendars and the boys examples of scenes from our
screen play, the evening had gone by quickly.
Their short movie of their swimming episode was rather obscene, but Paul
enjoyed it nonetheless. When Kyle
discovered that he wasn't condemned for ejaculating in the pool, he even
offered Paul a second piece of pie. Not
everyone had seen him with a hard-on, so that was a nice gesture.

"I just knew
that there were these little spermies swimming around in my trunks," Paul
humored.

He'd won over my
boys very quickly and made them all feel accepted.
We watched a movie I had rented two nights
ago, You AreNot Alone, a perfect feel good coming of age.Kyle held onto me the entire movie, while
Kory and Kit had Paul's arms wrapped tight within their own.
I'd never seen a tighter family when I was
married.

Out of pure
courtesy, I asked Paul if he wanted to spend the night because it was so
late. He politely concluded that it
would be too much of an inconvenience.
The boys smashed that quickly by saying that my bed was king size and
had plenty of room. I said I'd be glad
to sleep on the sofa, but Paul wouldn't have that.
He would sleep on the sofa if I was
uncomfortable having a man in bed. My
boys chuckled at that.

"Dad's
gay," Kyle blurted out.

"Well, that's
true, but I didn't mean...."

"So that's
where your boys get their charm," Paul said to appease my
uncomfortableness.

There were
snickers and signs of expectation from my boys that there would be some hot sex
that night. I discreetly said that that
wasn't the reason I invited Paul over.
In bed Paul and I rested on our elbows and had our chuckles over the
night's events.

"I think
they're already in love with you," I said and squeezed a little closer to
check his reaction. His groin barely
touched mine, but he was hard. My hand
swept around his head and we went in for a deep kiss, groin to groin.
He swept my pajama bottoms off, and I lowered
his underwear. His talent with a tongue
was amazing, as we traded pleasure for an hour, before he wanted me to enter
him. We fucked in numerous positions,
amidst my sons' whispers from the open doorway.
I don't think we had closed a door in the entire townhouse since living
there. If Paul heard them, he didn't say
anything. This was my first time with a man and I enjoyed it immensely.
Kyle had been an education, but my senses
were fully awake to enjoy this one.

By morning, we
had Kit bring in our breakfast in bed and he told us to stay put because the
house was being cleaned, the dishes washed, and we wouldn't be disturbed.
We did have a shower together, another round
of sex, and were visited at least six times for ridiculous instructions with
full exposure of our sexuality. My boys
knew all they wanted to know about Paul at this point and announced we were
Helmet Head and Long Dong. Paul was
mutually accepted as my partner and we hadn't known each other for more than 24
hours.

Paul was
officially accepted as part of our nudist household and ate lunch sans clothes
as his initiation. Kit had come in back
of our guest, put his arms around his neck and invited him to be my boyfriend.

"Kit!"
I said in embarrassment.

"Dad,
everyone has a boyfriend, so you deserve one," my youngest informed me.

"How about
Kory?" Kyle asked.

"He's got
all of us," Kit said to keep his brother smiling.

Off to martial
arts school for Kyle, I also dropped Kit at gymnastics and Kory for baseball
practice. I made one call to Paul and
answered two from him. We were smitten.
I had to wonder, the guy was 26 and probably
had several sexual partners. Should I
suggest we both get tested? I became the
worried parent. What if he has sex with
one of my sons? I began to see the
reality, but it was more about what was in Paul's motives than my sons.
Instead of these thoughts I invited him over
for dinner again.

By bedtime we had
Kit crawl in our bed because Kory had said something mean to him.
He also wanted Paul to rub his back.

"He's like a
cat who can't walk by without being petted," I said about my
youngest.

In minutes Paul
had managed to put the boy to sleep.
Like the observant parent, I watched and saw Paul's hand go no lower
than the top of my son's butt crack. I
know Kit would have liked it lower, but Paul had his reservations.

I knew better
than to expect Kit to sleep through amorous sex, but Paul didn't seem to mind
and Kit was really trying to be secretive about jacking off while we had
sex. He actually tweaked my son's nose
and threw back the covers to reveal this ploy.

"You can
watch but don't touch," I warned my son.

Three straights
nights of awesome sex, I had to ask Paul about his past relationships before I
hit him with the testing idea. His
response: Once as a twelve-year old, once as a teenager, and once in the
seminary. He had never had intercourse
until he met me, which explains the tightness.
I smiled.

"Would you
feel better if we each got tested?" he asked me and beat my concerns.
Then I realized he was concerned how many sex
relationships I've had.

"I'm
thinking that all the boys and adults should be tested throughout the
filming. You're my first adult partner;
I've just recently come out."

Paul smiled
himself with that news. If he thought I
was experienced it was because of a sneaky son giving me some ideas.
We had dinner at his apartment, though his
pool wasn't as nice as our own. Paul
could cook, which was understandable being a bachelor.
With the boys' hints, we asked Paul to move
in with us. He accepted, even with a
thirteen-year old boy who had no qualms at showing Paul his newest pubic hairs.

For a pastor he
was great with my sons. He had a way of
turning turmoil into submission by getting my adversarial sons, at their
aggressive times, to switch viewpoints by role playing.
By either seeing the logic in this or by
having to endure such torture, they would often apologize to each other,
compromise and resume being lovable brothers.
Though my boys often walked around naked, Paul had a blind eye to their
chronic sexual nature. He gave back rubs
and foot massages like a professional; I knew this because I was the constant
recipient. He caved in to my sons'
curiosity only once; they wanted to measure his penis, which was rather unique
at 8 and half-inches. This was
accomplished when it was his turn to receive a family massage.
To actually think you can resist an erection
with four sets of hands over your body is a misconception.
I often reminded them that I was the indirect
owner of this long penis.

Kit's motivation
to achieve this length was put on a permanent hold after tying an ankle weight
to his penis. It was unavailable for use
for two days, which nearly killed him that he'd lost his play thing to a
swollen cucumber.

Chapter Ten

Paul McKinley fit
into this bunch of rogues like a glove.
He taught Kory a curve ball and caught for my son on the side yard.
He made the best spaghetti and meat balls,
and had the touch of a mother for problems.

Kyle and I had a
great day at a public golf links, which gave me time to teach the boy the finer
points of golf. He had a natural swing
to go with the best father and son day I'd ever had with my twin son.
Paul made Kit's gymnastics workout to allow
our youngster to show off for this new man in our life.It was okay with me that Kit loved another
man as his hero. If sex was part of this
deal I didn't care, but I highly doubt it got beyond their full body
tickles. I might have gotten jealous if
Paul hadn't told me, when the two of them are alone, all Kit talks about is how
great his father is. That's my boy!

My lawyer had my
caper photographs, but he went beyond my temerity and discovered that my wife
and this church president had been shacking up for some time.
All he did was get the motel clerk to let him
look at the reservations for months.

There were all
sorts of demands, including the return of the boys to my wife's custody before
her lawyer discovered we had evidence of an extra-marital affair.
She backed off real quick but still wanted
the house free and clear. Give me back my $250,000 in exchange for the house.
It was a fair arrangement. The playing
field had been slanted in my favor.

Alas, there were
three things that made for an abrupt departure to Florida.
One of them was my wife's unexpected visit to
our townhouse. The boys were caught in
their fundoshi with Jake and Mike. At
least they weren't naked. The little
woman still had a fit, and I wasn't even there, but Paul was.
A strange man in the company of boys with
their bare butts sticking out! This was
an orgy if she ever saw one.

Kit introduced
Paul as a friend of mine, not getting into the fact that he lived there.
She treated him rather nasty, but Paul is
forever gracious and handled the situation well.
Her inspection of the house was of her own
choosing; it's when she dove into the boys' dressers that she discovered
photographs that I didn't even know about.
The boys had taken photos with the night vision camera we were to use in
the movie. There were the few sex scenes
of Paul and me in bed and in the shower.
Kyle was livid that his mother would even rummage through his drawer to
find these. Lucy wanted to know who took
these pictures, but the boys remained loyal to each other.

She gobbled the
photos up in her tight grip to view Paul and me in very homoerotic encounters.
In the meantime, Kit had run to my study to obtain the pictures from the video
I had of his mother and her boyfriend. I
didn't even know that the boys knew about this.The one with her legs spread, their former
preacher's head tucked nicely between them was rather obscene.
Then giving fellatio with her butt in the
air, not to forget getting sodomized, made her shriek with anger.

"Care to
trade?" Kit asked.

Lucy swiped
those photos from his hand, but Kit was just as quick and grabbed the photos of
Paul and me. He dashed from the room,
out the door in the great outdoors with nothing on but a diaper, his mother
called it. It wasn't like I didn't have
a lot of copies of those photos; they just happened to be of their mother.

Lucy wanted to
blame someone for this debacle, so she again vented on Paul and threatened to
have him arrested for child abuse. In
two weeks Paul had gone from a well-respected neighborhood pastor to a person
on my wife's hit list. She stormed from
the townhouse a whole lot more stressed than when she entered.

During all this,
Kory had met this girl his age at the pool, a nubile beauty in a thong that
left little to the imagination. To my
son, this was sex with a vagina. He told
us he jumped in the pool because his swimsuit was bulging in the front.
She dove in after him.

At the same time
Kit had raced around the various townhouses and arrived at the pool.
Now a girl in a thong isn't that unusual, but
a boy in a fundoshi is cause for speculation.
Kit didn't give it a second thought, tossed the pictures in a trash can
and joined his brother in the pool. He's
also not one to be serious or have empathy to a brother making a move on a
girl.

"You two
don't even have to have sex. You're
probably pregnant with Kory's child right this moment," Kit teased.

Kory tried to get
his brother to shut up, but the girl wondered what this younger brother
meant. "What's he getting at,
Kory?"

Kory gave her
this shrug. "Got me.
My brother is a little wacky."

Kit pantomimed
jacking off.

This bombshell
virgin gave Kory a stare that was more fitting for a freak.
"You yanked off in the pool?
How sick!"

All Kory got to see was a cute pair of buns
hustling from the pool. Now according to
my son, he only pretended to drown his brother.
Kyle and Rodney had arrived at the pool and saved Kit from a hostile
brother.Moments later here comes this
girl with three other kids, including an older teenager who was apparently her
old boyfriend.

"Hey, you
fags, Sheila says you guys are beating your meat in the pool.
Take your queer asses and go somewhere
else."

When the boys
didn't move, the jerk jumped in, pushed Rodney out of the way to get to
Kory. It's not like Kyle has had years
of martial arts training, but he grabbed the boy's arm and politely told him to
leave them alone. The swing from the kid
found pure air, but his body went backwards into an awkward splash.
To have my skinny son make a fool of this older
teenager was way too embarrassing. He
challenged Kyle to step out of the pool.

Kyle said he told
the guy not to push this, but to no prevail.
On the deck the kid went for quick revenge.
Kyle ducked and did a beautiful spin kick to
send this older teenager flying sideways across three deck chairs and into an
umbrella. The aggressor was now more
concerned that his nose was broken than continuing the fight.
Whoever was teaching my boy martial arts knew
what he was doing.

An average person might
have thought that Kyle and the boys would get a little respect for all
this. Instead, this girl and her friends
had spread the rumors that Kory was gay, and the words fag and queer were all
the boy heard around the neighborhood.
Kit apologized immensely, but Kory was now understanding firsthand what
it meant to be a gay teenager amidst vicious peers, and he wasn't the brother
who was gay.

Kory found humor
in all this, swearing off girls and that maybe Kit had done him a favor.
Paul's education hadn't prepared him for all
this in one day. He had a marriage to
conduct out of town for the next morning, so he was rather relieved to leave
all this for me to handle. What kind of
partner is that?

I received a
visit from a father, who inquired whether I had insurance to pay for his son's
broken nose. With the boys taking their
turns, it was fairly obvious who was the aggressor in all this; plus, the kid
was two years older than Kyle. The
father said he wasn't done with this, as he left empty-handed without any
remorse from me.

Rodney was in
total awe of his friend, which was fine with me.
I certainly wasn't going to scold my son for
sticking up for his brothers and Rodney.
All Kyle wanted to talk about was our morning golf match and how his dad
had shot a 68. I was pretty happy with
my boy's 88. In no time I would have him
beating his grandfather, though I was kind of hoping they'd never cross paths
again.

While Paul was
still there I had some explaining to do about their mother's affair.
I wasn't too pleased that my sons had
practiced their photo expertise on their father and Paul, nor that they had
been snooping in my office and discovered the other pictures.
I sent them to their room until I could
decide what punishment to meddle out.
Paul, in his modern methods of behavior modification, suggested to the
boys that they should come up with their own restrictions.

A few minutes
later out came my sons, totally naked.
"We are ready to be spanked.
We'd drive you crazy if you kept us on house arrest for any length of
time," Kyle spoke for the three of them.

Paul gave this
upper lip nod that maybe the boys were thinking we wouldn't spank them.
One by one we tossed them over our knees and
gave those bare butts a whipping they might not forget, and probably their last
in childhood. A lot of yelps and "I
was just kidding!" didn't help.
They jumped, held their buns and ran for the coolness of a cold
shower. Our hand prints were on there
for a whole day.

After a great
dinner, thanks to Paul's cooking, he had bought Edge of Seventeen, a gay movie
that the boys loved. They each wanted to
perform for the pastor, so Kyle went first and danced to Jackson's Billy Jean,
and then Kit sang One Voice. He was near
tears at the end and apologized to Paul because his voice was starting to
crack. To tell you the truth, it was
barely recognizable. Paul was so amazed
at Kit's singing, he simply grabbed Kit's testicles and said, "I'd rather
have my boy have manly balls than sing soprano."

Kit grinned and
didn't disappoint Paul in getting an erection in under four seconds ready for
launch. I had seen him do it too many
times not to count the seconds out. Kit
wanted Kory to show off his singing talent, so all the boys sang Stairway to
Heaven, which really impressed Paul. He
said they must sing in church, so this was now a planned event for the next
service.

We finished the
evening eating ice cream and talking about when a male loses his
virginity. Kit asked me when I'd lost
mine, given that we had decided it was through anal intercourse as a top and
bottom, and I said it was a family secret without looking directly at
Kyle. Kyle also claimed confidentiality,
though my sons knew what that meant.
Kory pointed at Kit; Kit said his bottom was still in recovery from
assorted brothers and boyfriends. Paul
admitted he'd lost it with me. Guess you
could say it was all in the family.

There was one
more reason I decided to buy eight tickets for Florida on a day's notice.
Whether it was a get back or they thought
they could get away with it, my pleasure of being in bed the following night by
myself was short-lived.

My history as a
heavy sleeper was taken advantage of again by my sons.
I wouldn't know why until the following
morning. If my memory serves me right, I
did feel a mouth around my penis, before a whisper of, "I love you,
Brad." In my heavy sleep it was
Paul. I sensed the lowering over my
penis, which invigorated me sexually to want to participate.
I flipped that body over and gave Paul what
he desired, legs up and the most lovable thrusting that I could accomplish in
my sleepy state. I came within minutes,
leaned forward and kissed my man goodnight.

Now there's a
scent of a boy, and one for a man. One
is intoxicating; the other is an aphrodisiac.
I'd come to know both for their wonders.
Recognizing that I'd been tricked, I pretended not to take further
interest. I swung over on my side to
resume sleep. There was a momentary
desire by this intruder to return the pleasure, and I found out humorously that
he lasted a grand total of twenty seconds.

I wasn't
surprised to find Kyle by my side in the morning, with Kit on the other
side. The boys needed their own company
and Florida was the place to find this.

Not giving any
sign that I'd felt something in the middle of the night, we ate breakfast in
silence, except for a snicker from Kit.
"Dad, I lost my virginity again."

"You mean
you've tried both sides?" I asked.

Kyle revealed the
truth. "He likes to top, but Kit
said he wanted to wait until he was in love to be a total bottom."

"When I was
your age I had no idea what those words meant.
I'm glad you've found someone to love."

Kyle eyed his
brother. "His hero has always been
you, Dad, just like me."

"So what's
this all about?" I asked innocently.

"I like Jake
a whole lot and he wants to do everything, but I didn't want him to be the
first," Kit said.

"Just like
me, Dad. I didn't want Rodney to be the
first. You saved my life and I love you
more than anyone."

It's tough to be
mad with these two mischievous souls.
"Let's keep this between the three Musketeers, okay?"

A few minutes
earlier I was ready to come down hard on these two, cancel this whole movie
deal because of their continual boundary violations in taking advantage of a
father who is very vulnerable while he's sleeping.
In this case, there's something for having no
knowledge of any event. I've not sure if
I could have done better if I was a sleepwalker.

Chapter Eleven

On that next
Sunday morning my youngest son made our new church come alive with his singing
How Can I Keep From Singing and You Are the New Day.
His voice maintained its beauty without a
sign that his balls weren't of a little boys anymore.
The boys then combined to sing Savior's
Grace, with Kit hitting all his high notes, and had the congregation giving
them a standing ovation. I'd never cried
watching these three sing, but that was an exceptional day.
Kory came to me and hugged me that he was
okay with living with this crazy family of three gay males and a participant
who was glad to be accepted. Paul came
out and kissed the boys on the cheek, except for my youngest who turned his
head real quick to catch one on the lips.
The laughter was what any church needs.

Paul drove us to
the airport and kissed us all goodbye as we boarded a flight from Dayton to
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where we caught a plane to Tampa, Florida.
There were eight of us, but one of them
wasn't Paul. He had to wait for his
vacation to start in August. The eighth
ticket was for my eldest; yes, that's right, my eldest.
The day before we departed he called me out
of the blue and wondered if I had anything for him to do with my project.

"Bored,
huh?" I asked him.

"Dad, these
women are driving me bonkers. Katy won't
have anything more to do with me, and Mom vents her hostilities out on me like
I'm you."

"Sorry about
that. Look, Keith, we had some tough rounds
there a month ago. Your brothers might
need some convincing, but I have the last word on this one.
Keep in mind this isn't going to work if you
aren't comfortable around your brothers' sexuality.
I can't have the four of you fighting day in
and day out."

"That was just a game, Dad.
You know, big brother has to get in his
digs. I don't care if they're gay, or
not. It's not like I'm going to do
anything with any of them. How's Kory
holding out?"

"For liking
girls, he's hanging in there. When you stop
to think about it, a lot of things you do are the same things gay boys
do."

"I'm not sure
Katy considers herself a boy, Dad."

"I meant the
self-pleasure thing, Son."

"Oh, yeah,
I've been doing that way too much lately."

I laughed.
"We're going to Florida tomorrow.
Pack your bags and pray that your mother
doesn't call the church to stop you."

"She's too
busy having him over and pretending to Katy and me that he's just a
friend. We both know he stays over after
we go to bed. Her moans are enough to
make me give up sex."

"There are
things you should know ahead of time about this movie.
It's a romantic tale of twelve boys on the
high seas with a lunatic English sea captain."

"Where's the
romance come in?"

"Between two
boys. Have an issue with that?"

"Not as long
as I don't have to play one of the boys."

"I suppose,
come to think of it, the boys are supposed to be fourteen, or so, and there are
two older boys at seventeen who bully their peers.
You could play one of the bullies."

"My
specialty," Keith reminded me.

"I'll pick
you up at six in the morning. Our flight
leaves early. A simple note on the
kitchen table might suffice if you don't have the balls."

"I have
those, but Mom would cut them off if she knew I was going with you.
I'll have to think about my approach."

Found out that
there was some discussion that night between Keith and his mother, not so much
about the trip to Florida, but that he might be happier living with me.

"Go live
with the faggot!" she had said, which was the first time my orientation
came in the picture. I'd forgotten to
mention that part, but pictures sort of said it all.

On the plane
Keith did question me, though Kit heard the inquiry and answered for his
father. "Yeah, Dad's gay like Kyle
and me. Get over it.
We even have a step-dad who's really
cool."

"And here
life has been standing still for me on Kenosha Street," Keith informed me.

Kory slipped in
the seat next to me when Kyle went to the bathroom.
"I'm going to become a minister like
Paul," he informed me. Life has
many surprises, so it didn't completely shock me how Paul's influence had
inspired my son. I thought this was a
worthy goal and that Paul would be pleased.

"My church
will be open to everyone, just like Paul's," Kory said.

"Naked
dancing?" I asked in humor.

"Only when I
invite Kyle," Kory replied.

Mr. Stroup met us
at the airport with a mini-bus. He was a
spry man in his fifties, as fit as I was with a tint of gray to his hair.
His gregarious nature had the boys on his
side very quickly. My entourage of boys
had their baseball caps eschew, though I wouldn't allow them to place them
sideways. Mostly Cincinnati hats from
our visit a few weeks earlier, they were a motley crew when they hit that hot,
humid Florida air. It just made one want
to take a shower, like immediately.

Through roads of
swamp land, bugs, and a smell of dead foliage, the aroma of sea hit my nostrils
before we saw the sparkling waters of the Gulf.
The crunching of tires over gray rock led us back to a white,
single-family home with a circular driveway.
Its red roof just seemed to be appropriate for the climate, with palm
trees flowing in the warm breeze.

Before we stepped inside, we had to take
off our shoes, an ambiance that Alan had acquired from his trip to Japan.
We should have known this from his book, THE ART OF LOYALTY.
Numerous Japanese swords and paraphernalia
decorated the interior, but there was also a western motif, combined with the
simplicity of wood and erotic paintings.

The boys gravitated right to this wooden
sculpture of a teenager, leaning back on his hunches, one knee slightly bent,
with an erection pointed straight up. It
was truly a piece of erotic work. Keith
pretended not to be interested, but leave it to Kit to grab ahold of that
pecker and pretend to masturbate the statue.

"Young man,
one does not touch pieces of art," I warned.

"That's
quite all right, Brad. That phallus has
gone in far more places than just the touch of a hand," Alan said.
The boys laughed and I had a vision of how
someone might mount that real life creation.

"It has a
head just like yours, Dad, and is as long as Paul's," Kit informed me.

I blushed and appreciated that Alan held up
his hand that no explanation was needed.

I wasn't sure how this 2000-square foot home
would accommodate all of us, but then Alan took us to the family room where
everything from video games to a wide screen became the perfect play room for
teenagers. Out the sliding glass doors
was a swimming pool and beyond that a trail that led to a beach by the
ocean. All on his property.
This had the boys drooling with anticipation
of water, fun and frolic.

"Can we,
Dad?" Kyle asked.

"Better ask
Mr. Stroup," I suggested.

"Go to it
boys, that's why I built it, for such an occasion," Alan said.

"Do we have
to wear suits?" Kit asked.

"Boys, this
is private property, so run to your heart's content and clothes are always an
option," Alan replied.

In seconds there
were six naked teenagers, except one, Keith.
He was reluctant to join in the melee of nudity and decided to play a
video game. This would be a long
vacation for the boy if he didn't blend in.
Alan brought me a Perrier and Keith a soda.
We discussed our trip and our objectives in
the next few days. I knew this bored
Keith with adult talk, as he kept eyeing his brothers and friends moving in and
out of the pool.

"You know,
Keith, nudity is a big part of the movie, and half of it you'll spend in a
fundoshi. You might as well get
relaxed," I told my son.

"I know,
Dad. I just don't feel like a swim right
now."

Alan showed us
his collection of books and art objects, mostly gay that he had collected
through the years. Keith tried not to be
too interested but, nevertheless, found the collection interesting.
Another knock on the door and in walked this
beautiful blond boy, no more than five-seven, with dazzling blue eyes and a
smile that could replace a light bulb.
This was my assistant director, Tad, a brand new eighteen-year old who
had been Alan's pet for four years. The
boy oozed eroticism. His tight shorts
defined a penis that leaned sideways as long as Paul's.
Though Tad had all the manners in the world
in greeting my son, Keith was a bit cold with his handshake.

"The
Huckleberry Pirates are in the backyard," Alan told his sidekick.

Tad eyed the bare
buns around the pool, dropped his shorts and strolled out stark naked.
The boy's hardened ass had my crotch bulge in
seconds. Keith was annoyed with my
attention on this teenager and gave me this disgruntled look like I was cheating
on my ex-wife. If anything, I was
jealous because the boys in the pool would get to see that crotch before I
did. Keith asked if there was a shower
available due to the stickiness of the Florida air.

Having to take a
leak, I walked in on my eldest in the shower.
I knew Keith had been having acne problems with his face, but now I
could see why he was reluctant to go nude.
His butt and back were extremely pimply and I could understand his
embarrassment. I didn't want to
embarrass him further, but I had to say something.

"Keith,
sunlight is the best therapy in the world for acne.
Go down to the beach, take off your shorts
and give yourself fifteen minutes of sunlight until your tan darkens.
In a few days you're going to see a marked improvement."
I took a deep breath not knowing how he would
take this invasive act of mine.

"You mean
the sun can help clear this up?" He
turned and exhibited a half erection. I
think I interrupted his masturbation.

"Of
course. Any skin doctor will recommend
ultraviolet treatment for cases like yours.
Give it a try."

"I'll try it
a few days, Dad."

I left with a
hope and prayer that this would work.

Another gentleman
entered the family room completely unannounced.
Found out that the elderly gentleman with a spring to his step was
English, a servant, as sorts, for Alan, and perfect for our devilish sea
captain. Actually, Alan called him
Captain.

Byron was 65, a man who had lived his life on
the seas in Ireland, where his father was a fisherman.
Alan and he had met accidently twenty years
earlier and the man had been a loyal servant to this author since.
A more intellectual man I had yet to meet, he
had a knack of knowing everything and telling nothing.
When I asked him to give me a little acting
as a pirate, he had me rearing backwards.

"Aye, laddy,
yur a mought fra-gile fer being on ma ship, ain't ya?"
Bryan furled his eyebrows, tweaked his
mustache, and contorted his face that convinced me I was one second away from
the gang plank.

"You're
hired, sir," I managed to spit out.
His face relaxed with this blossoming smile and he gave me a hug that
lifted me off the ground.

"Quite
convincing, hey, Brad?" Alan asked me.

"Where did
you find him, in the ancestry book of Captain Kidd's?" I asked.

They laughed and
I saw that these two knew each other like a book.
The room soon became crowded when Kyle's new
martial arts instructor showed. Jay Song
was Korean, a very cute Korean, and was ultra-polite.
As with most of Alan's companionships, my new
gaydar had no reservation in labeling, though one does not be too forward with
a man who can kick your butt. I walked
out with Jay to introduce him to my son and to see Tad naked.
That last one was my secret.
My son and Jay hit it off immediately, maybe
too well. Kyle bowed politely and they
were already talking karate language before I left.

Jay had brought
along two sets of gi and headed for the beach.
I noticed a few minutes later that they had tossed their gi pants for
the freedom of nothing on the beach.
Kyle idolized his new instructor, which made me question my motives of
keeping him and Rodney from being intimate.
Rodney followed Kyle around like a puppy, yet my observance at the
beginning was that Kyle was madly in love with Rodney, and Rodney was
uncommitted. Now the opposite had taken
affect.

That night I
insisted that the two sleep together as an experiment.
They could kiss and masturbate each other
off, but nothing more. They agreed.
By morning they wanted permission to advance
their techniques. Not yet, I reminded
them. Kit and Jake were thinking this
was a sex camp and alternated between the pool and their tent.
Why wasn't I that lucky when I was thirteen?

"Slow up,
guys, or you'll be walking funny," I told them.
They laughed and told me they were going to
set a record of seven times that day. I
shook my head and walked away.

On a nightly basis
Alan would show a film on the big screen for the boys, usually one with a gay
theme. Vitus was excellent, as was the Three Slaves and Pretty Boy.
They were tame enough that Keith enjoyed
them. For A Lost Soldier had quite an impact on Kit, now totally mad at
this Canadian soldier for abandoning the boy.

I made sure to
compliment Keith's improved complexion.
I'd witnessed him on a sandy cove down on the beach, laid out naked for
the sun to do its thing. He had a nice
body and possibly with healthy skin he might take pride in it.

In the evening I
learned more in two hours about the movie business than I would have in five
books. Tad was a gold mine in knowledge
as we talked with Alan until midnight.
We were ready for bed when Alan pointed at Tad.

Moving to my bedroom, there was Kit sprawled
out on one side. The boys had been given
tents to sleep outside. Apparently Kit
was Jaked-out and wanted to sleep with his father.
I assured Tad that the boy slept soundly, so
I lied. We had an hour of heated sex and
he loved being a bottom. I finished him
off by swallowing his load.

I went to the
bathroom to clean up, only to return and see my son on top of Tad.
He was following in his dad's footsteps--in
this case, getting sloppy seconds. I
waited, knowing Kit's speed for finishing under a minute.
Once they started kissing, I slapped both
their bottoms and slipped in between them.

"Okay, stud,
go to sleep," I told my boy.

Tad and I went to
face to face. "He's thirteen,"
I said but not accusatory.

"Sorry.
He's very self-confident for his age,"
Tad admitted.

"And very
horny. I'll talk to him
tomorrow." I kissed this blond
knockout and was glad I was in Florida.

Jay Sung arrived
early--who could blame him?Only 31, he
was young looking and all muscle. Cute,
athletic, and gay, Alan had friends from all stretches of life.
From nine to eleven, Kyle ran and did his
workout on the beach with his new instructor.
Jay ate lunch with us, then resumed their workouts in just fundoshi from
one to three. We made sure to make a
loincloth for our new crew member. Jay
had great rapport with my son, but was a task master and a choreographer for
martial arts; something Kyle's instructor in Kettering wasn't familiar with.

Tad used the
afternoons to put the boys through rehearsals, while Alan and I reviewed
applicants after a series of ads had run in four magazines: All Boy, Teen, XY,
and Freshmen. We also had an actors'
call on the Internet. Over 500 inquiries
from boys 14 to 18 years of age. Alan
had sold over 200 copies of THE
HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES in just the last two days.
Doing interviews on the Internet was tricky,
as we received pictures, hobbies, reasons for wanting to be in a movie, and
experience. There were a few
professional actors, but these weren't necessarily what we were looking
for. Many of the boys gave their sexual
orientation; some even sending us nude pictures.
We had to be wary of underage photos.

Bob Turner, our financier, arrived.
It's amazing how I can picture someone and be
totally wrong. From a vision of a man
6'6", 275 pounds, Bob was this gentle being at 5'7", 165.
First of all, I admit boys are a turn-on, a
charm that is tough to resist. I might
be overly judgmental about boy lovers, being a parent and all, but I couldn't
be a hypocrite. There was an expectation
that Bob might be overbearing, want to fondle the merchandise, per se, and only
desire the cutest of the cute. He was
not this at all.

His charming
nature put those who auditioned at ease.
He had a way with boys, a personality that younger males found pleasing
and non-threatening. Bob could sweep the
boy's hair, pinch his cheek, and pat a butt to get a smile.
Sometimes its aim was an invite to his hotel
room for the evening. I believe he
succeeded on all accounts.

Setting up an
office for two days in Tampa, we set appointments for two dozen select
individuals. Giving each boy a script to
read, we put them through a rehearsal with Tad, Bob, Alan, and myself in the
room. They were required to wear a
fundoshi while doing their reading.
Naturally, Bob showed the boys how to put this on and made sure
everything fit snugly. Alan and I chuckled and were somewhat jealous that it
wasn't our fingers inside the fundoshi.
Then I had to remind myself that I had my choice of some of the
prettiest boys in America.

I was prone to
pick smooth bodies with very little body hair.
There were gorgeous boys, eighteen-years old, who looked fourteen.
Then the conversation became one of, 'Do we
put eighteen-year olds with boys thirteen thru seventeen?'
Naturally this seemed puerile to any gay
male, but not to the law. We would be
inviting these kids to their own suicide of legal trepidation.
Though we bit out lips, we rejected all these
beautiful, legal boys.

One of the songs
we were using was the Eagles' Get Over It.
Bob had various auditions dance to this to see their personality.
Kyle would have loved this.
This did demonstrate how gregarious the boy
could be and how he adapted to an unexpected request.
I was humming that stupid song for three
days.

So much talent
and beauty, I wanted to make love to more than my share.
Bob probably did, especially with those who
didn't mind a bit Bob's fitting of their fundoshi.

This near nudity
accomplished several purposes: one, this was going to be their primary wardrobe
and two, it gave us the opportunity to look for blemishes, scars, burns, or any
other body mark like a tattoo that could have an impact on screen.
One of the boys got a hard-on, which everyone
laughed and put the fourteen-year old at ease.
Bob tucked it under the waist band, but, when it popped out and the boy
had this cute expression for his dilemma, we decided to hire him without the
script read. Way too gorgeous anyway.I asked each one if they felt comfortable
being in the nude, and few said they had no problem; a few took off their
loincloth. One boy was sure he would be
seasick, a cute little bugger that Kit would strangle me if I didn't hire
him. One black boy was very effeminate,
but funny and intelligent. I needed a
black boy, so he was a shoo in. By the
end of the first day, I had four of the five boys I needed.

Another six boys were
eye poppers on the second day and I had reservations that I had brought too
many boys from Ohio. Then Mike busted
his arm while doing tricks off the pool's deck.
They were trying to imitate Kyle's practice sessions.
I told Mike he could stay, but I'd probably
replace him on the set. He had no
problem with this, and he could be a ready replacement.

Unlike the book,
I found it difficult to hire boys who were overweight or didn't fit the profile
of someone every teenage girl would want to jump in bed with, let alone, every
gay boy. Alan said I had to bend a
little, so I hired a sixteen-year old who had a sense of humor that kept
everyone laughing; plus, Bob found him a dynamo in bed.
I traded off looks for a boy who could keep
the set laughing and to keep the producer happy.
Kyle changed the boy's hair, eventually, and
the kid was quite a knockout in front of a camera lens.

That evening we
met a man who owned a frigate on the harbor.
Every year they would take this ship out on the harbor to celebrate a
pirate tradition in parading boats and dressing as pirates.
We rented the ship for a thousand a week; in
addition, two men who knew how to sail the thing at an additional five-hundred
a day. One man, forty or so, was
married, while the other was in his thirties, a bachelor that we all expected
liked what he read in the book.

We had the entire crew at Alan's house
for three days, a wilder bunch of boys I would have committed myself to a
mental hospital for the simple thought of, what was I thinking?
I had hired a real cutie as the fourteenth
boy because I didn't want just thirteen.
Alan laughed. Kit fell in love
with Jeremy on first sight, two twinks who had been searching for their other
half in the wrong states. Jake liked to bottom and was making himself available
for any male rabbit, including Alan and me.
Naked boys were all over the house, getting a
glass of water, taking a shower, or searching for an empty bed to nap in.

One thing about
gay boys, they liked older men who were gentle and experienced with boys.
Kyle showered with me on a daily basis to
discuss his progress and what he thought of the preparation.
We knew each other beyond my eighteen years
of marriage, but this time we didn't need a shrink.
Kyle had asked me if we needed a psychologist
if he wanted to show me how much he loved me.
I agreed that this father and son taboo didn't serve a viable
purpose. We did what we did out of love
and affection for each other.

Kit and
Jeremy were inseparable; it wasn't uncommon to see them walk around with
hard-ons in demonstration that they were made for each other.
Keith found it disgusting and avoided talking
to his youngest brother. Not wanting to
say anything to take sides, I did notice that Keith's face and back were very
pink, but clearing up from the red blotches.
His lack of a sexual partner had frustrated him greatly and the
resentment showed.

What I didn't
notice was often reported to me second hand.
Alan caught my youngest and Jeremy being intimate with his wooden
sculpture. Mr. Stroup hadn't tripped
because there was a signature book next to the statue of "Richie's
friends", for those who had mounted the wooden phallus.
Richie was the name of a character in his
book, AGE OF DISSENSION.
Alan gifted me a copy.
All that was required of Kit and Jeremy was
to clean the 8" rosewood penis after their fun and sign the book.
They were now part of the 88 people who could
claim such a feat. Kyle and his father
would make 90.

Alan had put
three port-a-potties outside near the beach to go with the outdoor shower.
The backyard was pretty much self-contained
to handle all the boys. They could still
use one of three bathrooms inside. My
son Kyle walked in on me while I was using the john.
He stood in front of the mirror, totally
naked, admiring his ripples from the intense workouts over the past several
weeks. He was no doubt in terrific
shape. So I wiped my ass, moved over and
grabbed his balls.

"If I ever
see you use your skill on anyone to be cruel, these little marbles will be
removed."

He knew I was
serious, but he kissed me anyway.

The best thing, it
was time to start filming on schedule.
All Tad told me was, "You tell me what the scene should look like,
and I'll do the rest." Could it be
that easy?

Chapter Twelve

Alan had located
an old barracks at an abandoned Air Force base for our dorm at the
orphanage. Bob had hired twenty boys at
one-hundred dollars each as extras for this day, putting them in just their
underwear or less to roam around the dorm.
Locating enough blankets for 50 beds wasn't realistic, so we filmed the
initial scene in the dorm by moving bed to bed, throwing on the same mattresses
and blankets to make it look full. A few
editing tricks would make it look authentic.

The shower scene
was filmed at a beach shower area. We filmed
this late at night when it wasn't used.
Kyle, Rodney, and four other boys appeared very comfortable waiting on
set without clothes on. The shower scene
was only two minutes in length in the movie, but two hours of filming. I
thought that other teens might have felt awkward if they had to endure
this.

There was nonstop
activity with organization and directing boys in all sorts of directions.
It was sometimes difficult to separate the
crew from the actors. Kyle and Mike had
started from day one in filming everything they did, from swimming to
eating. Their idea was to add extras to
the movie of how the film was done and what went on when the films weren't on
set. Though they weren't telling me
everything, there was a whole lot of indiscreet filming that wasn't noticed or
the boys had no idea they were being filmed.
Boys could get away with this type of pornography, while an adult would
have been hung up by their heels. I had
a funny feeling their production was as much sex as having fun with special
features.

There were so many
different personalities to deal with. I
well knew my own sons and had figured out their friends.
Now I had another seven to learn, plus the
crew and my new friends. Tad brought
four men and a pretty girl with him when filming started: a sound man, lighting
technician, camera man, and a best boy.
Yup, that's what they call an assistant in the movie business.
Buddy said he was eighteen, maybe in three
years I thought.

The young lady
was responsible for wardrobe and make-up.
Lisa was a film student, had no problem with gay boys, and had a
southern accent. The boys loved her from
second one. Her giggles were constant
because, anything the boys did, she thought was funny.
She seemed oblivious that there were a dozen
naked boys around her at any one time while we were at Alan's house. The boys
accepted her as just another guy.

Tad's crew were
good workers and knew exactly what they were doing.
Totally professional, I had to worry about
the boys trying to make out with them, than just the opposite.
I spent the money and everyone was tested for
STDs. A clean report gave me some
relief.

We had some good
luck in filming a typical Florida thunderstorm, including lightning.
The initial scenes of the movie had this
spectacle. I had an opening act where
Kyle is on a top bunk, looking out the pane of glass while it was raining.
Naturally we didn't film this while it was
raining, but ran water down the glass with the camera on the outside.

Moving through the
glass to create a cool image, Kyle's tears were to replace the flowing water on
the pane. To get the results I wanted I
had to do a little method acting with my boy.

"Kyle, the
saddest thing you ever did to your father was almost break my heart when I found
you in the car that night. I'm not sure
I could have kept living when the love of my life is dying in my arms.
Know that I'm always here for you and, though
we've talked about boundaries, nothing can keep me from your arms if you really
need me."

He started to
cry, which turned my fatherly love into the face I wanted.
I tossed him on the bed and we shot the scene
in ten seconds. In some ways I did my
job as a director; in another thought, I felt rotten for making both of us feel
sad.

The actual scene
was Kyle remembering his parents and their grave stones as he looked down on
them weeks earlier. Not having any
distant relative to take him in, he was relegated to an orphanage.
His bunkee was Rodney, a boy he would rename
Huck, because of the boy's interest in ships.
They didn't hit it off right away, as Huck wasn't the most trusting of
boys, being picked on and staying to himself.
Having any friend would take time.
The following morning in the shower scene, Kyle would witness the abuse
from bullies that Huck was receiving.
His intervention wasn't necessarily appreciated by this fragile and
distant teenager.

Kyle and Rodney
had fun with their expressions of getting to know each other on film.
I had already had the music planned for this,
but I gave them carte blanche to be creative, say what they wanted, as if this
was truly happening, and act silly.
There was the de-shorting while they shot baskets, the pushing, the
shoving, the tap games, their wild adventure in a music room, and their first
eye contact that had gaydar written all over it.

We wrapped up the
filming in the dorm in one day, the outdoor activity at a park in a day, and
spent another day designing an office.
Paul had yet to arrive, so I did the director's part.
Lisa played the secretary.
Sometimes we'd see a man for a part, have him
sign a contract, pay him a couple of hundred and put him to work for a
two-minute part. Such was the case of
the grandfather, an elderly custodian at a park who was doing part-time work to
make ends meet. He was such a nice guy
and loved the boys, I said we would be in touch because we needed his face
again.

Off to the harbor
we filmed a docked yacht, hired a lady salesman for a quick take, and put
Captain to work. His outfit as a pirate
was too good to be true. When the boys
first met him it was all non-rehearsed, and boy did their eyes bug out.
Too authentic, the camera caught the boys'
apprehension, even fearful of being under the direction of this man.
Captain was a task master, a no nonsense
captain of a ship who taught these teens how to be a powder monkey to climbing
the tallest mast on the frigate. The
boys jumped to his every word, and even the captain didn't succumb to my
youngest son's puppy dog expressions.

Back to Alan's
house, a few of us examined the angles and footage of the day's work.
All of this had to be edited and put into a
logical pattern. I was so overwhelmed
and Tad so relaxed, I pretended to think that this would work.

Outside the boys
ran naked to and fro, playing tricks on each other and having abandoned their
shyness from the first day they met.
Keith was finally part of them, at least minus the clothes part.
He had a friend, another sixteen-year old who
was gay, but not overbearing. Keith
didn't know about the gay part, yet.

An unforeseen
problem arose when two of the boys decided that Alan's hairless body looked
really cool. I'd joked with the author a
few days before that his books often had the characters shave their pubic hair;
thus, he was as clean as a ten-year old.
When I saw two of our teenagers looking like a prepubescent, I
panicked. I didn't care if they wanted
to look clean shaved, but on film they had to be teenagers.
Bob had the quick solution of collecting
pubic hair from the other teens and gluing them on our two hairless
wonders. Naturally he did a remarkable
job of moving his fingers through a dozen teens' bushes, or proximity to, to
gather loose hairs. He used a black
marker to fashion a young teens' pubic line.
I know Bob looked forward to each day to be the make-up man for this
part. Both boys would tell Kyle that Bob
gave awesome head.

Paul and I talked
every day, his arrival was scheduled the following day.
Tad was cool with this.
We had had a week in bed together with great
sex, though he had his assortment of boys and my sons.
It didn't matter to me as long as everyone
was healthy and happy.I was consistent
with three partners a day, being a gay man with loads of willing partners.
A straight guy should have it so lucky.
With Paul it was truly masculine love based
on a mutual attraction for each other.
With Tad, he was too close to my sons in his boyish image and lithe
body. I often had relapses of making
love to Kyle; they had much the same body type and affectionate desires.
Tad had a pillow ready right beside Alan, a
far more discreet man than I was. A boy
a day was find with him.

Our next day
shoot was out in the harbor, a way to get the boys familiar with the ship and
do the initial fun things boys do on boats.
Oops! I'm not supposed to call
that ship a boat. Anyway, we had Keith
and his cohort pick on Huck, with a tinge of hostility that they've recognized
a deep friendship between the two boys.
As boys took off their shorts and jumped in the water from the lower
masts, Huck climbed up the main mast and did a three somersault dive.
Rodney's skill in diving fit perfect.
Naturally no one wanted to duplicate this
feat.

Across the harbor
came a motor boat with Paul McKinley inside.
It was good to see his smiling face.
When we locked lips as he came on deck, any speculation of our
orientation was now evident to any of the crew who hadn't labeled me yet.
Having Paul with us inspired the boys that
much more and gave all the participants a moral backbone.

The only trouble
with shooting that day were the various on-lookers, from rowboats to small
craft who wanted to see not only this frigate, but what all the commotion was
about with cameras. Seeing boys in their
underwear inspired many younger people to be voyeurs.
We had to film at various angles so that all
these spectators weren't in the scene.
Then we had the show-offs, boys who had spotted the cute teenager with
his sister. The girl might have thought
that the boy was showing off for her, but we knew the right reason.
Captain had to grab a few ears to keep the
boys from lowering their underwear so they'd come off in the water.

Our plan was to
take the ship around the Florida Keys, just for the photographic effect, where
the director died accidently retrieving some money he had embezzled from the
orphanage. In a storm he was blown from
the crow's nest. That was another
sub-plot. That left the old English sea
captain in charge. We used Alan as the
cook and the captain's sidekick, which was ironic that their roles were just
the opposite in real life.

The boat....oops,
ship would anchor and anyone not in the actual shoot or responsible for its
direction went below deck. We had planned
on a five-day shoot, then a return to the mainland to check the dailies--
finally to resume the final scenes around the Florida Keys.

To make sure that
everyone behaved I put my peek-a-boo lens in the forecastle.
I'm not sure who I didn't trust--I was
becoming a control freak. Maybe I was
afraid my youngest son would terrorize their living quarters with his perpetual
hard-on. One thing I did notice, Kyle
was now as tall as I was, and Kit's genitals were blossoming to an adults.
It's easy to notice these things when your
sons are nude every day. Kory also had
grown an inch so far during that summer.
I'd like to think it was their father's influence.

Tad was good at
picking certain boys to do odd jobs.
Mike became a boom operator, another a grip in charge of moving cameras,
scenery, mike stands, sandbags, and so forth.
Buddy, the best boy, was actually very knowledgeable as an electrician
and helping with sound. I, the director,
was considered God, so says Tad. Since
Paul had arrived on the scene late, I had yet to find a position for him.
For the time being, he was like a den mother
who directed traffic and often made my thoughts come alive.
Tad was methodical and professional, while
Paul had a softer nature which demanded respect because no one wanted to offend
the right hand of God.

We used two
Cannon XL-1s, often at such different angles I had to watch where I was
standing. Suspension of Disbelief is the
basic premise of having a film be effective.
I learned this from Tad. As a
director, my number-one priority was to make a final product that people could
get lost in. I had to be able to get
them to forget they were watching images projected on a wall, and imagine that
they're looking at real people. Though
we relied on the script, I often gave the boys the scenario and asked how, as
teenagers, they would react. Great
acting isn't really a gift, it is being oneself all wrapped up in the
moment. I thought the boys were reaching
through the lens, through the screen, and into the viewers' hearts to be one
with them or against them.

There's also
something about nudity, the pink skin, now getting browner that caught the eye
immediately. I was getting used to
seeing penises and butts, but still a boy's body had a magnificence to it that
was ruined on an adult's. I'd even
shaved my chest and hairline to my pubic area because I liked the looks.
Kyle loved it; Kit wanted me to put it back
on. It's what Kit found attractive with
Bob, his bear-like chest flowing with black hair.
Kit thought it was sexy.
He should have never told our producer
that. I just know they did something
together.

The script called
for two fight scenes at the orphanage, and with each one we managed to make it
real and believable. Though it was fun
doing a little Jackie Chan comedy relief, I didn't want to make this laughable,
only authentic to a boy who was very talented at martial arts.

Thankfully, Jay
brought the scene to realism. Jay made
sure I had no prima donnas, often displaying what I wanted on Kyle, rather
violently, if I don't say so myself. The
boy respected his teacher too much to get angry.
Kyle wasn't that aggressive, but he got the
message, as did the other boys not to clown around.
A great many retakes were necessary to get
all the martial arts moves perfect.
Occasionally a kick or punch was errant and made for a bloody nose or
split lip. Tad said these weren't the
scenes a director deletes.

Tad wasn't a big
bad teenager; actually, rather mild and loveable.
If a boy gave him the wrong look or
resistance, Tad simply glanced at Jay.
For some reason this teenager had a change of attitude very quickly.

There were times
the boy's line didn't cut it. I'd give
him another try, but then I'd go with my way.
Best thing, I had the final say and veto power.
That was so cool!
This was my painting and I picked the colors.

Teenagers can be
a moody bunch, disagreements with others, worry, anticipation--all sorts of
mental hurdles that these boys go through without anyone knowing why they're
thinking the way they're thinking.
Either Paul or myself would take the boy aside, an arm around his
shoulders and find out where his head was.
We never accepted, "Nothing," or "I'm okay."
Most often they were ignored by others and
took it personally, or someone had said something to hurt their feelings.
I could remedy these problems real quick.

Meals were the
best Alan could do, though with the help of the Captain, who played several
roles. The little frigate wasn't a fast
vessel, but it was finely tuned.
Everybody, and I mean everybody, had to do their part in keeping the
ship shipshape, the decks mopped, chrome polished, and the sails flying with
the wind. I learned the names of the
sails and had my favorite. The boys took
quickly to climbing the masts, swinging on the ropes when they could, and
pretending to be able-bodied seamen.
They certainly loved to go below deck to examine the ten cannon that
were very real indeed. Being a powder
monkey left each boy with a face of black and an initiation that they'd
remember forever. I'm not sure how
accurate our captain was about this initiation, but cabin boys must have had a
lot of fun. There's just something about
having an orgasm, sitting on a cannon and having that thing between your legs
fire and shoot you back six feet. Now
that was a real high. It figured that
Kit would want to try it again.

Every boy wanted
to be held in a sling off the deck so he could poop above the waves, like in
the old days of sailing. It made for a
good butt cleaning, as well. Just like
home, there were soon few secrets that any boy would hold from a peer.

The continual
adversary between the older boys and Huck and Kyle was a major theme in the
shoot. There was this horrendous fight
on deck with more Jackie Chan stunts than should be allowed in one movie.
Kyle didn't require a stunt man, only because
we didn't have one. He missed ropes at
times and tumbled to the nets, got up, brushed off, smiled, and resumed.
Every time I gulped, afraid he'd broken an
arm, I'd run to his side. Kyle would be
embarrassed by my attention.

Keith had to learn
to roll with the punches, slide a kick, or dodge a swinging rope.
He too had his bumps and bruises, a
relationship with Kyle on set where they both had to cooperate, coordinate, and
laugh when things didn't go well. They
also hugged when things clicked, when stunts went even better than planned, or
Kyle would truly pull off a Jackie Chan to everyone's amazement.
The boy was incredible on set, as well as in
bed. Oops, I didn't mean to say that.

"Dad, the
others will think I'm a wuss," Kyle would whine if I gave him too much
attention on set. In my cabin he would
want me to kiss his every bruise.I
backed off on set and loved him off.

So many of the
planned antics had the boys laughing, which broke the tempo of the shoot.
I knew these tricks were so precise and only
a onetime thing.Tad said we could edit
the scenes into a more serious tone when the boys retired.
They often looked at Kyle like he was super
human for some of the things he did. Jay
only nodded, applauded and gave advice on how it might have been better.
Kyle looked at him cross-eyed before Jay
broke up in laughter. They had a great
relationship, as well, and I didn't mind a bit sharing.

I did my stunt
climbing up to the crow's nest in a rain storm, then watched a dummy of me fall
into the ocean. That was real scary
climbing up a rope ladder that high. As
a director I told them this was going to be a one take only.
They laughed.
So much for my acting career.
Rather than return to the orphanage, the captain had other plans for his
new rogues. He was ready to make their
ship a pirates' vessel to raid those on the high seas of their booty.

The morning shoot
had the boys ready after breakfast, only to eat biscuits made out of
sawdust. They spit and coughed, but this
was all an act. Later they had eggs,
bacon, and orange juice. The captain had
them go swimming--their first nudity--and that's when the old English fart hid
their clothes and blamed it on a sea legend.

We had Kyle come
up with the idea of taking sheets and making loincloths out of them, contrary
to the captain's wishes of keeping the boys naked.
This was where the fundoshi came into being. With
all the pink skin, there were a lot of roaming eyes from the crew, but even
having Lisa on deck didn't bother the boys.
Their tanned bodies hadn't completely eliminated white butts, so this
made the scene more realistic than a dozen tanned-all-over boys.

I could tell that Kory had been smitten by
this attractive little brunette. She was
a doll and patient with the boys, probably because she had two younger brothers
herself. He had caught her eyeing his
nudity, then I yelled, "Cut!" because his penis was heading
upwards. Kory squatted and only he, Lisa,
and I knew why I'd stopped the scene. We
laughed about it later.

A big part for
Huck was when he was invited to the cabin to eat with the captain.
The abundance of food and drink inebriated
Huck in a scene that was extremely funny and well-acted by Captain and
Huck. The captain had ulterior motives
for getting the boy soused; the chase around the cabin, where the captain swept
the boy's pants down, only to have his catamite fall asleep by drunkenness.
Kyle had been waiting on deck, now totally
pissed at his friend's failure to be there for their nightly jaunt.
By the morning the two weren't talking,
though Huck would try his best to explain his absence.
Their coming to terms with this was the real
revelation that they were in love.

Another awesome
scene was done underwater. Huck had
found an old crusty cannon underwater, then a gold coin, while Kyle was
searching the sea bottom for other relics.
Up they came to collect their breath, where Huck showed off the coin and
wanted to dive again. We got footage of
an eel leaving its hole underwater for later use.
Anyway, the camera zoomed in on Huck's
dangling penis, while the boy's hand searched through the sand.
Another shot at this eel, the camera coming
closer and closer. A view at Huck's
eyes, as they sprang open in shock, and back to the penis, where Kyle had
grabbed it with his hand. I knew this
would be spectacular on screen.

There's something
to be said for underwater photography of the nude form--spectacular and very
erotic. The crystal clear water made for
excellent filming, amidst sea life and spectacular coral formations.
If anything is more natural than a boy naked
in water, I've yet to see it.

Aside from the
filming I checked my hidden camera.
Before the beginning of filming for each day Lisa would make sure
everyone was dressed accordingly--which meant with their fundoshi on.
I saw my son as the last one checked, making
sure everyone had departed on deck. His
loincloth was eschew, like this was a first time thing.
Lisa laughed and redid the rear knot to right
above the crack. Kory turned with a full
erection sticking from his front.

"Now look
what you did," he told her.

"You're so
silly, Kory," Lisa told him in her cute southern accent.
"Now how are you going to get that
down?"

"You've got
to help. Dad's going to kill me and I'll
have to blame a pretty girl."

"Well, what
would you have me do?"

"Rub it a
little."

Lisa looked both
ways, undid the cloth and fingered his erection with the lack of expertise of a
beginner. Kory shot his sperm into her
face and blouse, making her jump backwards.

"Oops.
Sorry about that, Lisa.
Guess my penis really likes you."

She smacked his
bottom and told him he was way too sexy.
It took another minute of jumping up and down and Lisa laughing to get
that thing flaccid. This isn't what I
had expected, but I felt that my boy deserved a female in his life after
putting up with two gay brothers for so long.

Chapter Thirteen

The men who owned
this vessel wanted us to stop off in Freeport, on the Grand Bahamas.
This would give us chance to stretch our sea
legs and for the boys to go off on their own for a few hours.
They might have been down to just their
loincloths on the ship, but they dressed in casual shorts and shirts to hit the
town. I had to give them my
expectations.

"No drinking,
no drugs, no sex......" I yelled but they all took off down the plank and
into town before I could finish my sentence.
A director's voice had its limits when it came to on-shore
furlough. I had hoped they heard my
curfew time or there would be heads rolling.

Paul and I took
the afternoon off from viewing the dailies with Bob Turner in tow.
He had flown in to be with us after his
business ventures to make the type of money he loves to throw around.
Bob was generous to a fault, taking us to
lunch and wanting to know all about our few days of filming.
His love for the boys was amazing, and though
I saw this love as almost an addiction, the boys cared for Bob because he was
so caring and protective. One thing I'd
witnessed, he could make love to a boy and want that youngster to hurry back
for a repeat performance.

We loved the
ambience, the food and the service. The
people were friendly and the boys ran the opposite way when they saw us.
At a jewelry store, we bought each other
rings--going steady rings, we called them.
I had quickly fallen in love with Paul, and I was under the impression
he loved me for who I was, not for having four very handsome sons.

Neptune must have
liked my actors because they all returned safe and happy.
No arrests, no wobbly youngsters, only
stuffed and tired--a couple with stomach aches from too much indulgence.
Off with the duds and into their loincloths,
most of the boys felt a whole lot better with practically nothing on and being
out on the warm seas.

Keith arrived at
our cabin that evening with a curious mind.
He had apparently talked with his brothers on some of the things the
Mormon Church had taught him through the years.
Paul invited the conversation, since Keith was anticipating two years as
a missionary for the Latter-Day Saints.

"There is a
great wealth of evidence concerning the material contained in The Book of
Mormon," Paul started and began to talk about the plagiarisms,
anachronisms, false prophecies, and other unfortunate practices connected with
the book. Like the Bible, this book also
had taken on various revisions through the years, the last former edition in
1920, while the latest revision was in 1981.

Paul told my son,
"The many revisions prove that the Mormon Church will sacrifice truth for
the sake of public relations." Paul
went on and gave far more examples than was necessary.
From an inspired revelation from God to a
doctored up novel made up by Joseph Smith.
But was the book even his to doctor?
It was plagiarized from another man's writings.

"It was well
known at the time that Joseph Smith had habits of exaggeration and
untruthfulness. He and his father were
in particular considered entirely destitute of moral character and addicted to
vicious habits," Paul said quoting Mormonism Unveiled, Painsville, Ohio in
1834. "There is so much research
and truth written about the beginnings of the Mormon Church that those who
dwell on these questions are quickly excommunicated from the LDS Church after
refusing to keep silent about unflattering research.
Not many churches are scared of their past or
that their church be considered a fraud with undeniable information."

So Keith
listened, had questions, and tried to debate or find fault with Paul's
knowledge. Each time he was countered
with irrefutable facts. I saw the
Mormon's propaganda as a way to control a congregation that was hungry for
change, believed anything they read or were told, and followed like sheep.Now I could see why the Mormons selected
nineteen-year olds to be missionaries; the same reason the military used
vulnerable teenagers--they were willing, excited, and naive participants.

"How do you
know so much about the Mormon Church?" I asked.

"When my own
family had two young men visit our home, I was fascinated with religion at the
age of fourteen. Guess you could say it
sparked an interest that made me what I am today.
A person cannot understand God from a mere
book or going to church. We are, after
all, just a form of energy that makes up the universe, an energy created by a
higher power that barely touches our imagination.
People like to create differences that make
them better than the next person. Rather
sad, if you think about it."

Paul made Keith
and me very contemplative with his simple explanations of love and life.
He's a good person, non-judgmental,
pragmatic, challenging, and has a body that needs paraded around San
Francisco. That last one was for my own
self-gratification.

Out on the high
seas again, we looked for sailing vessels with families.
They found us before we saw them.
A frigate of this class draws a lot of
attention, so it was easy to find admirers and convince them we'd like to fire
a cannon across their bow so they could be in our film.

"You want to do
what?!" the man asked rather emphatically.

"Only a fake
firing and a splash," I explained which put everyone at ease.
Gee, it's only a movie.

Having an abundance of near-nude teenagers on
the mast and walking about the deck can draw a lot of ships.
A pirate's flag was funny to us, scary to
others. Two of these vessels agreed to
be in our film.

One family from
France, with a twelve-year old boy and a fourteen-year old girl, were way too
willing. The mother was topless and
found the boys so cute with their little sheets on, she called them.
The girl and boy had on skimpy suits that
said they were from Europe. Our boys
found Bjorn amusing and delightful, while Kory and Keith eyed the girl.
Her blond hair was more platinum than Tad's.

The idea was for
the captain and four boys to board their vessel, hold them at gunpoint and rob
their boat. Kyle saved the girl from the
lecherous hands of his brother and his sidekick who had taken this role as
pirate way too seriously.All
show. Kyle ended up getting kissed, a
little too good of a kiss. I had to
shoot the scene three times until I got the point across that she wasn't to
make love to my son. This was more a
thank-you gesture for saving her from being raped.

Kit managed to
get the boy below deck on the frigate and give him head.
This I found out later, but the boy looked
really happy when he came back on deck.
I think his father was suspicious because his son's postage stamp
bathing suit had quite a bulge to it. Either
way no one seemed to care and a French kid had an American boy to e-mail back
and forth.

We had one other
boarding with a family of five children.
They sailed around the Caribbean, but the whole capture of their vessel
and their acting weren't very good. We
would edit this one out. We anchored in
Nassau and met an owner of a nice yacht.
He agreed to let us board his vessel in a night filming of pirating a
boat in the harbor. The boys got to
swing from ropes to board the vessel, with Jeremy missing the boat and being
whipped to the sea on the other side. We
used that one.

Alan was busy
befriending an aristocratic at a local bar.
The book had a Greek tycoon; we settled on one from Italy.
No children, but his yacht in the harbor was
168', perfect for a shoot. He agreed if
his wife gave the okay. Alan has a way
with the opposite sex, which is more than I do.
He charmed her like he was an American playboy.

We did our
filming in capturing this yacht and did the final scene in the movie the next
morning from a nearby island. We'd have
to edit the sunset in later. There was
an addition of Lisa as his daughter, though I think his wife had second
thoughts after this petite young lady had her husband desiring to jump in bed
for a romp. As a get back she put the
moves on Alan, so he hid all over the ship to avoid her advances.
I found it hilarious.

A whole other set
of filming had yet to be done on an island after the ship would be destroyed in
a storm. More extras and confrontations
would take days to shoot. I was glad to
have the helicopter shots out of the way; not to forget the great aerial
footage of the frigate. Expensive but
well spent.

There are 3,000
islands around the Bahamas, though only 20 are inhabited.
We came across one of the islands' patrol
boats and asked to film them. They were
quite cooperative, doing a little acting as if they knew we were this rogue
ship harassing sailing vessels on the open seas.
Buying an old vessel that was barely
seaworthy allotted us the opportunity to sink this one, having the viewer
believe we sank the patrol boat.

Roy's death from
his fall from the mast took five tries to get it right.
The boys cried after we threatened them to
tears, or was it that we promised them a big party that night?
Either way it worked.
We had a proper burial at sea, using the
words arranged by Paul.

Bob threw a great
party, with everyone being nude and body painted.
He had this way too planned out, having a
boom box, paint and brushes in his duffel bag.
We had smorgasbord of delights on deck, while a few of the kids who were
artists painted each other. Lisa had a
swimming suit painted on her by Kit, with Kory watching his every move.

Kyle got to show
off his dancing, while other boys did rap, break dancing, or singing.
This was Bob's favorite, show tunes, as he
sang, An Ordinary Man, from My Fair Lady.
A little ancient for our boys, but he got a great round of applause
because he was footing the bill. Even
teenagers recognize the hand that feeds.

His painting made
the show, a stomach of Groucho Max, what with the hair on his chest and a
goatee with the pubic hair. Kit
recommended that if he cut his pubic hair back from his weenie, it would look
longer. Bob did.

Paul volunteered
to give a sermon, which wasn't received with great exuberance.
I stepped in and told the boys and crew we
should be thankful for what we did have.
Paul took the quarterdeck, smiled and said he'd like to talk about
sex. His audience became instantly
attentive.

"Fun things
are not immoral, illegal, or shameful.
Your parents, friends, preachers, teachers have shamed sex, even as you
have shamed life, calling it evil and wicked, rather than the highest gift and
the greatest pleasure. God has given
each of you energy to feel an attraction for each other, to become one, is the
essential dynamic of all that lives. God
does not care whether that oneness is with a male or female.

"The moral
codes, religious constrictions, social taboos, and emotional conventions you
have placed around sex and around love and all of life have made it virtually
impossible for you to celebrate who you are.
All any of you want is to love and be loved.
Sex is that extraordinary expression of
love--love of another, love of self, love of life.
You ought to therefore love sex!
Guess what?
You do. You just can't tell
anyone you do; you don't dare show how much you love sex, or you'll be called a
pervert. Yet this is the idea that is
perverted.

"I tell you,
boys, lady, men, God has given you nothing shameful, least of all our very
body, and its functions. There is no
need to hide your body or its functions, nor our love of ourselves, and of each
other. This is an opportunity for you to
cut those bounds, to explore your desires, and to thank God for being selected
to witness before Him."

Paul said a
prayer and was swamped for his dynamic message.
The boys weren't quite sure how much more open they could get, but they
were willing to try.

I figured that
Kory might make another move on Lisa the following morning in the
forecastle. Suggesting to Tad to
rehearse the boys on the plank, I stayed in my cabin to get a first-hand
view. Sure enough Kory waited to be
last, but his approach was more direct.

"Is my nose
shiny?" he asked with a most flirtatious grin.

Lisa kissed
him. "Glad to see that you've
learned to put on your loincloth."

Kory whipped his
garment off and stood there naked.
"I might need some help again."
His penis grew to its full length right in
front of her.

"Yes, I can
see your problem. You must think I
really like you, Kory."

"I bet you
say that to all the girls," she said with a grin and touched his arousal.
"I'm not letting that thing squirt on me
again. We better find a different
solution, don't you think?"

"I'm kinda
new at this," he said with the most innocence I've ever seen from my
fourteen-year old.

Lisa removed her
top to reveal upturned breasts and pokey nipples.
My son went to work on those, before he rode
up and asked, "Can we do it?"

She nodded and
removed her bikini bottoms, before taking his hand and selecting a bottom
bunk. In no time she had Kory's erection
directed correctly and cautiously inserted.
Since she stated during her medical exam that she had never had sex,
this all made sense. Both their
virginity were now a distant memory.
This wasn't something I was willing to just pretend didn't happen.
Kory probably wouldn't brag like other boys
or rush and tell me his first experience, so I whipped out of there, walked
across the deck and down inside the forecastle.
I caught him in full orgasm. When
they caught my presence there was a panic, more from Lisa than Kory.
He withdrew with blood on his penis, which I
knew wasn't from a period.

"I....we....," she stuttered.
I held up my hand, and that's when I had asked her if she wouldn't mind
being the daughter of this Italian tycoon.
"Is he as hot as your son?"

"Not even
close," I said with a smile.
"I'm only disappointed that you're not using protection, unless
you're on the pill."

Tad and I found
that taking photographs of the boys in natural play had a more relaxed
composure, especially for publicity shots.
In the morning while the crew was setting up cameras, bounce cards,
booms, and any dollies they might need, the kids shot off their fundoshi and
climbed the masts to dive in the water below.

I discovered why
Tad said that sound was ten times more important than the picture.
External mikes were put in the sails, under
ropes, anywhere to pick up natural sound.
Tad loved Dutch tilts, which were camera angles above or below the boys
to give different perspectives of size.
This worked well on the ship.

Kit was my
clapper. He loved to take the device and
yell, "Huckleberry Pirates, scene 22, take two!"
We'd have a five-second pause for editing
purposes to begin the scene. He'd help
me with my point of view and shot selection.
Of all my sons, he would be my next assistant director, he loved it that
much.

Kory had a smile
all morning, his virginity for females had been accomplished.
It's amazing what your first intercourse will
do, put a boy madly in love--at least he thought he was in love.
The boy would smile at me with certainty that
I wouldn't criticize his clandestine affair.
He had as much right to his sexual adventures as all the other boys on
ship. I was wrong on one thing, Kory
told his brothers of his accomplishment and received pats on the back from Kit
and Kyle. Keith shrugged it off as a
wishful dream.

Chapter Fourteen

There was only
the beach scene and an island rescue left for my first motion picture.
We were going to do the ship's destruction
under bad weather when we returned to Tampa.
This would be done by creative editing and blue screen, thanks to the
world of computer graphics.

Kory came to me
later to admit he was in love. I had to
tell him that most love affairs resulted by a satisfaction of a sexual nature
and wasn't so much by a mutual understanding of each other, their likes and
dislikes, hobbies, family history, goals, and ambitions.
He didn't quite grasp my meaning because he
was thinking about his next orgasm between her legs.
We made an agreement because no one thought
of bringing any condoms, he would pull out before ejaculation.
Later, my mind went back to when I was a
teenager; pulling out sounded a lot easier than actually doing it when that
electrical charge starts at your toes and zaps your head.
That's not a good time for rationale
thinking.

With a new
schedule of doing make-up on deck, I had put a stopper into the possibility of
the two lovebirds being alone again. But
then the storm came that night and those who slept on the deck went below.
Lisa crawled in bed with Kory, and kids have
interesting things to do under the sheets.
No one cared who was sleeping with who.
It had been a boys' world of testosterone for weeks.
Now there was one heterosexual affair that
sent female moans into the forecastle ambience.
The only question I had for my son the following morning had the answer
I was afraid of.

"I wanted
to, Dad, but it was impossible. I mean,
gee, Dad, there's like a magnet in there that won't let me release once I feel
it coming." A fourteen-year old's
logic and all predestined by my memories.
I would've thought that as many times he had had intercourse with his
brothers, he would have figured that out.
"Oh yeah," he said when the mind kicked in instead of his tallywacker.

We spent the
morning filming another underwater scene of Alan rescuing Huck and Kyle after
they'd been forced to walk the plank. No
doubt the most precarious role, both boys had been bound at their ankles and
wrists. In twenty-feet of water we had
to make sure Alan could untie the boys and get to the surface in under a
minute's time. Their escape to an island
nearby preceded all the scenes we would do back in Tampa.

We had three boys in constant search for
sharks, which were quite plentiful. It
was when they got too nosey is when we were prepared to scoop the boys from the
water. Once again the underwater nude
scenes were spectacular.

Alan had brought
along a map of old sites of wrecks, some dating hundreds of years old. One of
them was close enough the boys were all excited in diving into all this coral
to see really nothing but a couple of cannon. Alan gave Paul and me an underwater
metal detector. Within ten minutes I'd pulled a crusted knife out from
underneath coral—at least I thought it was a knife.

No way was I going
to be the only one allowed to use a detector, so I passed it off to the boys
and went back on deck.

Paul might not
ever be the screen star we had planned, but he doubled, no tripled, as our
medical technician for sunburns, scrapes, bruises, and bruised egos.
He was our psychologist, pastor, and
everything in between. I was glad we
never needed a doctor, though I was sure at times that Kyle had broken
something with all of his stunts. Our
love together was a time when I could check his health and vitality out.
With God's blessing, according to Paul, we
humored, we made love in the galley.
Just call me Noah.

Keith was in his
glory being around so many young teens he could impress.
His friend, Brett, a boy the same age, was
gentle and easily domineered by Keith.
My son wouldn't necessary bully the younger boys, but demand his way
with his physical size and aggressive nature, though it was all a front.
Kyle, Kory, and Kit would tell their brother
to take a hike, but other boys were more wary of an older brother.
I had hoped my eldest son would learn to be
more tolerant. An expectation that
wasn't realistic until an unforeseen event had the most profound impact on his
personality and on our voyage.

In the meantime,
I'd taken that crusty scepter and washed the barnacles off, cleaned it several
times and found it solid gold. I kept
this little secret between Paul and me.
Our stay on the high seas was coming to a close; at a thousand dollars a
day for his ship, I was motivated to return to Tampa where we could film the
island footage near Alan's home.

The crew
celebrated by breaking out the champagne and I said they could go swimming
since we were close to this island and the water was shallow.
Though we had seen many sharks, one of the
boys rowed the dingy out and became a lookout, trading spots with another boy
every few minutes. Lisa had seen enough
naked boys to last a lifetime, so she flaunted her all, which got more than a few
stares from my straight boys. Kory was
as protectorate as ever, and I think they had sex under water.
The two were now inseparable, though he'd
have to learn that girls don't always have their legs open five times a
day. So far she was proving me
wrong. They were like two newlyweds
discovering sex for the first time with my boy's penis puffy and red.

After a few
drinks I felt a little loose myself, so Alan and I disrobed and joined the
party. Not even in the ocean can one
expect privacy when Paul and I were bumping groins underneath the water.
Boys were swimming below us for their
eavesdropping. Three of them surfaced,
including my youngest.I should have
expected one of these characters to say to my son, "You were right, Kit,
your dad has a real helmet head."

It's not that we
didn't see the sailboat approaching, only that we were used to boats sailing
close to inspect this odd vessel. This
particular sailboat had other ideas.
With five black men on its deck, it dropped sail a half-mile out, then
used its motor launch to bring it alongside our ship.
I decided to climb aboard the ship to see
what they wanted.

Their leader was
a guy named Jeremiah, and he started every sentence with the work Mon.
He came on deck as if he was invited,
"Mon, y'll naked."

I insinuated we
were filming a movie with the boys and we were all male, in case he had other
ideas. I knew he wasn't interested in
stealing this ship.

"Okay, Mon,
then ye'll like Hollyweird people with money."

"Nay, Mon,
we like Ohio people with no money."

He laughed, but
that's when his gun came out. His
sidekicks on the launch brought out their machine guns and I knew we were a day
too late in heading back. By this time
our boys and one girl had witnessed this intrusion with weapons and began to
gather back on the ship from their swim.
Kory was smart enough to swim under the ship with Lisa and come up from
the other side. She was quick to hide in
the galley.

These men were
apparently all Jamaican, about as close to pirates as we were pretending to be.
I was never told this area of the sea to be a
favorite hunting ground, but my crew had other stories.
Every open sea is a pirate-plagued area to
gather ransoms from unwary rich folks with million dollar yachts.
Sometimes the pirates just plunder goods,
high-tech hardware, or take the ship itself, repaint it, and fabricate phony
papers. Pirates fetch the highest
ransoms when their captives are citizens of Western nations.

They came aboard
our ship and eyed our crew of naked boys and men.
Those who tried to get dressed were slapped
and their clothes were flung over the side.

Keith moved
slowly over, his eyes never leaving the barrel of that revolver.
The Jamaican grabbed his groin, then fondled
his ass. "Yu will do."
He began to take Keith below deck, but that's
when I protested. The back of my head
still hurts from the butt of that gun.

When I came to,
everyone was sitting on deck, bored and restless.
Keith was brought back up with a leash around
his neck like someone would treat an animal.
He appeared a bit worse for wear, but no bruises, cuts, or other
injuries. More subdued with his groin
fuller than usual.

"My mon
needs to get his rocks off," Jeremiah made note, and he was referring to
Keith. "Who's t' star?"

No one spoke up,
but then I saw Rodney start forward until Kyle held him back and stepped
forward. "I am," he said.

"Ah, a pretty
boy. Com', pretty boy, and get fucked by
my mon."

Keith and his
brother stared at each other, but Kyle nodded and would sacrifice this for the
safety of the crew. Instead, Keith went
down on all fours with his ass toward his brother.
I could see the wetness on Keith's butt, a
redness that he'd been used by this Jamaican.

"See,
everyone, my mon is a bitch. If he wants
fucked, t' boy will satisfy my mon."
Jeremiah's gun went to Kyle's head as an incentive, but hardly a
stimulator to get an erection. Kyle
dwelt down and masturbated until he was hard.
He was gentle with Keith, though I could tell his ass had been
penetrated, so Kyle slid right in. He
reached around and masturbated his brother, an act of kindness that the boys
had learned from Paul. Cumshaw was the word Paul described in his lecture,
which means an unexpected gift. Being
sodomized was twice as pleasurable when you received pleasure, as well.

Jeremiah made a
spectacle of the boys in their sexual position.
A few spanks to Kyle's butt that the boy was a natural.
If the Jamaican only knew.
Kyle came as quick as he could and
released. The head of these idiots grabbed
Keith's chin and stuck the boy's face in his crotch.
"You like, huh, mon?
Anytime you need fucked, you tell
me." Keith nodded in fear.

There were threats
that a person would be killed every day until a ransom was paid, a million for
each boy. I expressed that these were
orphans and we were doing a film for the orphanage.
He eyed everyone and was almost convinced.

"Then, mon,
t' boat is fur sale and yu will pay me five million fur its return.
Call yur owner."
He walked over to Jeremy and put his gun to
the boy's head.

"I can arrange
it," I said, "but it will take time and we don't exactly have communication."

He pointed toward
their own craft. "We do.
Mon, I need someone to make my
point." His motion for Alan to step
forward was only a prelude to someone getting hurt or killed.

"Look, Mr.
Mon," I said. I was glad he found
me funny. I whispered.
"We found some treasure nearby under
water. You'll have all the gold you ever
wanted, as long as you don't hurt anyone.
What do you say we play cool and I'll take you there tomorrow morning?"

He thought about
this and withdrew his gun. "Mon, I
kill all of you if you lie to me. A
matter of fact, I need to shoot someone!"
He pointed at the captain, but again I interfered.

"Sir," I
said and lowered his weapon. "Mon, he's our cook."

The Jamaican
thought about this and decided his hunger had more prevalence than his desire
to kill. He gave our illustrious senior
citizen permission to go to the galley and prepare dinner, while the rest of us
stayed put in the blazing sun, stark naked.
I gave the other adults a look of helplessness, but I was trying to keep
these pirates sane and us alive.

The thug took his
time and fondled most of the boys, selecting his next victim by feeling their
butts and sticking his finger up a few.
Just for his own enjoyment, he had Keith go below again, then was
brought back on deck on all fours to give all of the boys blow jobs.

This time
Jeremiah was stark naked, his long, black dick hung listless.
The first boy who resisted got smacked and
thrown on the quarterdeck. They each had
to suck their tormentor first, with the threat of a gun to the head if they
used teeth. Keith followed, sucking
first, then allowing each boy to masturbate in his mouth or face.
A few boys took satisfaction in their memory
of how Keith had intimidated them through this trip.
One fourteen-year old held Keith's head down
to a deep throat. Most of his peers
understood Steve's vengeance. There was
no doubt that Keith emulated a stupor, a boy who had either been given drugs or
alcohol. Found out later it was marijuana.I glanced at Jay, like he was supposed to
put a stop to all this. Easy for me to
think when there are four automatic weapons on deck.

One by one Keith
went down the line until every boy had been satisfied.
With me, I doubt if Keith even recognized that
I was his father. One of the men who had
come with the ship wasn't real talented at this art and had accidently brushed
his teeth across the black man's dick.
Jeremiah was about ready to shoot the guy when Paul hurried over to the
rise of four machine guns. I saw Paul
raise a figure he'd made out of strands of rope.
It was like a voodoo doll.
Paul had a piece of straw prepared to poke in
the skull.

"Hey, Mr.
Pirate, I will give you eternal agony if you harm a hair of anyone," Paul
said which surprised everyone there.

The scoundrel
glanced at this enterprising effort and laughed.
"You not into voodoo, mon, are you?
That's one with t' devil!"

Jeremiah laughed
and scanned the likes of this American in front of him.
"Show me, mon, and make it quick."

Paul brought the
guy off with a technique I can vouch for.
I had to wonder what was behind this voodoo thing, but it worked.

A face of
satisfaction creased across the Jamaican's demeanor.
Here was a man who had no empathy for anyone,
his life bent on destroying others. I
was further convinced that drugs had been the motive for going below the second
time, before he whipped out his long black dick that we each had to
endure. Keith lapped up that the length
and acted like a puppy dog being rewarded, much similar to the Stockholm syndrome;
yet, he had only been under this man's power for a few hours.

I asked to go
below so I didn't have to endure anymore of this show.
In the galley I helped the captain prepare
dinner. He told me if I could get to his
cabin there were sleeping pills there.
His idea was to slip the pills into the pirates' food.
We did find Lisa in the pantry, huddled up and
waiting to be told that everything would be okay.
I couldn't give her such assurance.
She stepped out and stretched her limbs from
that cramped quarters, humored that we were all naked.
For a girl she had one great body.

"I see where
your son gets his girth," she told me.
I liked this girl.

Though I went
back on deck and waited for an opportunity to get to the poop deck to retrieve
the captain's sleeping pills, these men had a keen eye for mischief and
restricted my movement. We were all glad
to see the sun go down, a relief from the hot sun.
One by one they took us to the forecastle and
tied our hands and feet to various posts.
Our one black youth was taken back on deck by one of the pirates, no
doubt another play thing for them.

Finally out of
earshot of our kidnappers, Alan questioned my insinuation that we had found
treasure. He knew it was a stall, but
wanted to know plan B.

"I'm still
thinking about that one," I said and had everyone worried.
"At least no one has been shot,
yet."

The boys and crew
eventually fell asleep in the hot quarters of such a cramped space.I was worried about Keith, but somewhat
relieved that he was under the influence of drugs and not really conscious of
his exploits. There were sounds of
rowdiness and drunken behavior on deck throughout the evening, but then silence
prevailed as they had all eventually succumbed to sleep.
I had fallen asleep myself when I was nudged
by Jay, next to me. He whispered it was
time.

"Yes, of
course, time," I said and had no idea what he meant.
I was told to get Kyle awake, so I reached
out with my legs and nudged him.

Jay slithered up
this pole that he had been tied to and, with one great effort, brought his legs
back and kicked outward, snapping the wooden pole that Kyle had been tied
to. The crack of wood woke everyone up,
but the pitch darkness kept the men and boys in suspense.
Immediately the forecastle door swung open
and in walked the guard.

"What's the
fuck goin' on here?!" He was as
blind as we were, but everyone was seated or attempting to lay down.
Slowly he walked through the mass of bodies,
but then I noticed that Kyle had brought his upper body up to release his hands
from the pole. Swinging his back around
to where his teacher's hands were he could untie his knot. They worked quickly
to release one set of hands, then the other.
When the guard realized that a pole had been snapped he raised his gun,
but way too late. Between Jay and Kyle,
they wrestled this Jamaican to the floor, where Jay finished him off.
The crack of a neck was very dramatic.

Everyone was
untied and I thought quickly of a plan to get us out of this mess.
Kit had an idea to go with my own.
We decided on our course of action with input
from Kyle, Alan, Paul, Bob and Jay. I
then gathered the men together to assure that no one would walk out and blow
the entire escape.

I volunteered to
venture on deck to see what we were facing.
I spotted three men with their weapons ready on their laps, but they
were fast asleep with bottles of booze at their feet.
One of the teens that had been brought on
deck saw me. I motioned for him to beat
it to the forecastle.

Best
thing, the pirates were all sleeping, though I figured one had been assigned to
stay awake on deck. Like a ninja in the
dark I traipsed by two of the men, no more than three feet away.
Into the cabin area I saw my eldest son
asleep on the outside of our cabin. His
leash was tied to the doorknob, just like a dog would be and threatened not to
move. I awoke him by putting my hand
across his mouth. His lips went right to
my groin.

"No, no,
no," I whispered. "It's
Dad."

Keith was too
dazed to realize what had transpired. I
helped him up, released him from his binding and led him out on the poop
deck. I saw the others going below into
the bowels of the ship. Into the arms of
Paul I placed Keith to be guided below with the others.

Kyle, Kit, and
Rodney followed me to the railing, where we slipped over the side and swam the
thirty yards to the pirates' thirty-five foot yacht, which was probably stolen
to begin with. There we waited for
sunrise and step two.

Chapter Fifteen

Though the boys
fell asleep I had time to check the boat for guns, money, and anything else
that might be useful. To get in a gun
battle with these idiots was not in our best interests.
I certainly didn't want my sons possessing
weapons. I could have called in the area
patrol, but their reliability in showing up was questionable and a gun battle
with all the boys still on the frigate wasn't a great idea.
Back on deck I watched while three of the men
were still dozing.

It didn't take
long for one of them to stir and walk below to the forecastle.
I figured he was checking on why he hadn't
been replaced for watch. This gave me
time to rustle my own boys to prepare for a wild morning.
Sure enough here came a frenzied black man,
waking his friends and seeing me with three boys attempting to unfurl the main
mast on their sailboat. I yelled
something to the fact to fool them in thinking I was keeping everyone else
below deck until I could unfurl the sails.
Exactly what I thought, we were sprayed with a round of bullets as we
ducked below the cabin, out of sight.

I heard their
leader arrive on deck, yelling and screaming that his men were idiots, and then
one of their men said, "They've escaped!
I think they're all on the yacht trying to make their break."

Jeremiah was true
to his pea-shaped brain. He had his own
small craft at the stern of the ship and ordered his men to keep us pinned down
while they prepared the boat to travel to their own vessel.
The four men crossed the short distance with
the speed of a small outboard, all the time keeping their guns aimed at an
abandoned sailboat. What they found when
they searched their own boat wasn't what they expected.

I wasn't sure I
could do it, but we all had slithered over the side of the yacht and made our
way back to the galleon holding our breath.
Thankfully the waves were a little choppy; otherwise, the clearness of
the water might have well revealed our intentions.

By the time
Jeremiah realized he had been had, the men below had raised the gun wales and
had prepared four, four-pound cannons for fire.
I sprinted below deck and saw Keith with a fire rod, alongside three
other men, one of them being Paul. I
grabbed the igniter from Paul, implying that I'd rather have this on my
conscience.

We smiled and saw
the gaped mouths of four black men thirty-yards away with their eyes now on the
frigate.

"Fire!"
the captain yelled. When the smoke
cleared, that yacht looked more like a flaming rowboat.
If there were four humans on its deck a
second ago, they were no longer visible.
The sea had a thousand smoldering bits of ship, or parts, in this
case. Pieces of wood fluttered down from
the sky.

My boys
resounded with happiness and glee, like we'd sunk the British navy.
Twenty-two males and one female hugged each
other in total nudity without the slightest care whether one of us was straight
or gay.

What I didn't
know was that my Kit and a cameraman had hustled to the poop deck.
Kit had picked up a piece a paper and yelled
to the Jamaicans, "We need you to sign a waiver to be filmed."
Another crew member was back on deck with his
camera to catch all the action. The
cannon fire rocked our ship and sent Kit flat on his back.
The cameraman did a great job in holding
steady, though there was quite a jump with the explosion.
He still caught most of the impact.
Kit was so dazed, he matched his father for a
lump on the scalp.

Out of respect
for the dead, we gave one of our captors a funeral at sea.
His body would serve the depths far more than
being alive. There was a breath of
relief, a tension of survival. I'm not
sure anyone wanted to make a movie anymore and were more than happy to hear we
were returning to Florida, immediately.

There wasn't any
talk of treasure or how the movie was supposed to end.
Used to no clothes, we were this nudist ship
on this warm day in the Atlantic Ocean.
The boys frolicked in play, while assuring that every sail was hoisted
and waving from the masts to sailboats passing nearby.
One thing about the high seas, no one much
mattered whether you had clothes on or not.

I
took Keith to the cabin and checked him mentally and physically.
He wasn't quite sure all what had happened,
but he knew he had done some very risqué things.
Paul and I tried to find humor in all this
and tell him nothing was his fault. We
knew he had memories and thanked Kyle for being okay with all this.
Their previous brotherly friendship had been
restored with a new respect.

On deck the boys
kidded him that he gave a great blow job, and Keith accepted this in good
spirits. His new camaraderie with his
peers was a godsend, a teenager who had changed dramatically in the worst of
circumstances to come out of it very humble.
He was a little sore in the butt for taking a few good sexual jaunts,
but otherwise he was as sound as a whistle.

Not that I
expected him to all of a sudden love sex with boys; I told him to refrain from
any sex until he was tested. I had no
intention of scaring him, but Jeremiah appeared to have a wild dick with no
bounds.

During this whole
escapade, it was no secret that Tad and his crew had its fun with our band of
pirates. They had continued to film
almost the entire fiasco, including the sex scenes.
All the Jamaicans said was, "No problem,
we are movie stars and the cameras are ours.
We have big laugh someday like National Geographic."

Tad thought about
what we had yet to film and the revisions necessary to complete the movie.
We could re-shoot the escape from the
forecastle without the adults present, and then the boys lighting the
cannons. In the end, I liked it.

Paul became part
of the film as a black man. Actually
every black pirate was part of our crew.
There were so many different films on this ship, I had to wonder who was
making this movie. Numerous boys had
their own scrapbook of SD chips, filled with enough porn to excite the
nefarious sex police. All I could see
was a group of well-tanned boys who believed in themselves and didn't judge
others.

Sailing all day
and all night, the boys watched the night lights of Miami from the deck.
None of them had bothered to put on any
clothes or loincloths in the warm night air.
Keith was part of their band of fourteen, an accepted member who had
gone through the worst of the worst. He
had been fucked in front of us all and given blow jobs to all the crew.
Every ship should be so lucky, we teased
him. If there was an adopted gay
brother, it was Keith. In addition to
the night life, they had a jack off contest on whose sperm went the farthest.
This was something Keith could do without
violating our agreement. If anyone was
over being the pompous, arrogant asshole, it was my eldest son.
I don't want to give those pirates any
credit, but they had tamed a stuck up kid.

We arrived back
in Tampa in mid-morning the following day.
Considering that some of the boys had no clothes at all, thanks to our
pirates, we made the transition to shore without a lot of voyeurs.
Bob Turner made sure none of his clothes were
available and was quite the nudist. His
tales of his visits overseas to the Philippines and Thailand made for
entertaining stories for the boys that night.
Bob told us later that he would have paid a ransom if it would have come
to that. I was thinking four letter
words.

Alan rented two
vans to transport the boys back to his place.
While the boys skinny dipped in the pool to freshen up, we met in the
living room to discuss the finishing of this film.
Tie-ups were crucial to the final scene.
We had hours upon hours of footage, now we
had to make it come together to make sense.
Unlike 35mm film, we didn't have any bad film, per se, though a whole
lot of editing had to take place, some shot with red or green backdrops to be
filled in later.

There was more
sex on that ship than I'd ever know about, as the boys used their own laptops
to find amusement with. I was glad we
weren't raided.I made arrangements
again for testing, more concerned about Keith, Kyle, and Rodney.
I'd forgotten that Kyle had sex with Keith
after Keith had had sex with the Jamaican.
Then I had Kyle and Rodney doing their thing on a nightly basis.
The fact that we each had our mouths around
the Jamaican's dick crossed my mind, so everyone got tested.

Promising the
boys a huge party to celebrate the success of the shoot made it easier to use
the next day for various scenes we needed to tie up the loose ends.
Alan owned so much property it was easy to
use as an island; plus, we simply went out in the water to do a few shots.I had hired a helicopter for aerial views
and island shots. There was money left,
but we still had to do the editing, music, and some voice overs, maybe a few
dubs. Bob played a black pirate and
suggested a sex scene with one of the boys.
Tad relented, only to cut out the scene in the final copy, but keep it
in the director's cut. It wasn't that
Bob wasn't good at it; his dick wasn't exactly Jamaican made, if you get my
drift.

Paul was on a
deadline to his church, so we filmed him as fast as we could before he flew
back to Dayton. He had been a true
anchor for me and the boys, an attitude that all was okay in the world and God
loved us every second. He had the most
profound words for our boys to think by and make me laugh.

"If you have faith in a God, a God that
made your body as it is, yet you believe it is dirty and private, then blame
the manufacturer." He had another I
liked. "All boys love sex, but maybe not with you." And Kit now
quoted his new pastor. "We're not
dogs; learn to use your paws to get the other person off at the same
time."
Not to forget: "Orgies are like the
Special Olympics. Lots of drooling and
smiles; plus, everyone is a winner."
Kory loved: "You can't stop boys from having sex--it feels really
good. And if it doesn't, grab
another."

We left five
bodies in the ocean, so I'm hoping God didn't mind that less humorous moment.

Chapter Sixteen

The party was for
the crew and the boys. Though it started
out in dress, it was only a matter of time after all the eating that the boys
stripped to enjoy the beach or the pool.
By midnight most everyone was naked.
Kit volunteered to be our masters of ceremony and the local comedienne.

Leave it to my youngest to embarrass his
father and brothers. "Dad has
taught us all we need to know to operate our penises.
Teaching us to drive should be a snap.
Dad bought us Disney condoms.
Mine was the Pinocchio, so he always knew
when I lied. Guess you can see that I
don't very often tell the truth. My
brother, Kory, thinks you're gay when you can't get a woman.
Then explain to me why the only times in his
life he slept with a woman was when he couldn't get a boy.
Straight boys are okay, they make great
reservoirs for our sperm. Thanks, big
brother. My dad is a heavy sleeper, but
that's another story. Anyway, he's
telling me that when he dreams of sex, there's a light that goes on when he's
doing it, and then automatically goes off when he's finished.
I said, 'Dad, you're beating off in front of
the refrigerator.'"

I blushed and
accepted this roasting from a boy who was going to be spanked, first chance I
got. Of course he wasn't done.
"I knew I was gay when I was four,"
Kit told everyone. "I saw this cute
helmet head on my toy soldier, a soldier who stood at attention when I wanted
and made me feel good. Kory was my
reinforcer in this belief, my brother who was sure I was sleeping when he'd
play with himself. Soon he had these
different objects shoved up between his legs and that's when I knew where my
little soldier wanted to play. One of
those objects was my school marker. He'd
put it back in my Chipmunks' backpack, but I'd let the other kids smell it the
next day, saying it was the secret to sexual pleasure."

Kory shrank down
in the grass with a very humble smile.

"Now I think
everyone should have their first time with a general.
A general is one with a big helmet head, like
my dad. Wah-hoo!"

"Kit!" I
threatened.

"Now I'm not
saying my first time was with a general," Kit tried to cover-up, then,
right in front of us, grew a hard-on.
"See, I just knew that that Pinocchio condom wasn't always
right." Everyone laughed.
My boy was a natural in his straight comedy
act, not entirely straight.

"If God had
intended me not to jerk off he would've made my arms shorter.
My brother Kyle never sucked his thumb; he
was doing auto-fellatio by the time he was two.
I like my soft effeminate side because it makes my masculine side
hard. My mom says men are either
thinking between their legs or their stomach.
So if I don't have a hard-on, feed me.
Boys like older men. My problem
is that I'm a boy and my future boyfriend is thirty, married with two children,
and is a closeted gay who doesn't know that I'll be his first male lover.

"Watching my
brother Kyle in bed is like watching a mime having sex; you could swear you
were watching an orgy. When I get my
driver's license I want to drive my mother to the nearest male strip club and
say, 'Just wait here while I pick up my check.'
My sister thinks I'm too nosy. I can't believe she put that in her
diary--three times. My dad says that,
being thirteen, might be too young to have sex.
I should be trying on Mom's heels and make-up.
After watching my father's habits, I can wait
to try that at thirty-eight. I was
thinking that fathers should be proctologists, and mothers, abstract
artists. Then we can view the world
exactly as it is."

The boys clapped
and roared with laughter. I should be
retired and simply put this kid on stage.
He wasn't done. "You know
why straight boys like porno more than girls?
Because they can get porno. I
want to thank Dad for this great trip.
Some kids would have nightmares or weird flashbacks at facing death and
being kidnapped by pirates. Giving a
pirate a blow job and getting one from a straight brother are great childhood
memories for a gay kid.

"I was a
Mormon not long ago. I see now why their
priorities are straight. Why feed the
poor when you can always put up a new stained-glass window?
My oldest sister is so self-conscious that
when she goes to football games and the players go into a huddle, she thinks
they are talking about her. I read in a
recent magazine where boys our age are sexually illiterate.
I just want them to know that my penis reads
Alan Stroup books and thrives on every word.
I've never seen it yawn, but it's good at putting wet bookmarks between
the pages. Dad's glaring at me, so I
better finish up. One more thing about
the Mormon Church. I love boys, so I'm
assuming that male strip clubs are like the Mormon Church: I have to pay money
to get in, watch beautiful boys dance inches away from my face, I can't touch
them, they can't touch me, I can't touch myself, and I give them all my
money. I'm thinking that's what Mormon
heaven is all about."

The boys stormed
my boy and raised him up as their hero.
And to think I had to live with this kid.
If there was one good thing, the kids had
laughed so hard they had expended their energies.

We had our awards
show and various previews of the movie.
Kyle and Rodney gave their preview of the special features, they called
them. Many of these shots would never
make the DVD. These guys were real
rascals at catching their peers and crew at the most private moments.
Dirty tricks, horseplay, practical jokes, all
became part of the scene on a daily basis.

Tad put together a
blooper tape, which had everyone rolling with laughter.
For non-professionals, we had a lot of
fun. The director, assistant director
and crew had their own presentations: Best actor,

funniest, most congenial, goofy award, and most
aspiring. Though I didn't vote for him,
Keith was the best actor award. He was
shocked and Kyle said he didn't see any difference from the big brother at home
to the one on the set. That was more a
roast for his brother. Keith accepted
his award and said that all the boys were in awe of one actor, the
captain. Keith turned his little golden
cup over to this prominent senior citizen.
The captain accepted it with graciousness and a kiss to my son's
lips. Keith didn't seem to mind at all.

Kit was victor
for the funniest award, no doubt keeping our cameramen in stitches.
The boys turned around and gave their own
awards: Tightest ass, best blow job, longest shoot, most fun to fuck, and best
fucker. Keith had it hands down for best
blow job--he blushed--and Kit was the best fucker award.
Found out from the special features that my
boy went in and out of six positions, and made sure to give the other person a
hand job to come together. He modestly
accepted the award and gave credit to an older man for direction, and Jake was
his lovely bottom. Everyone stared and
laughed at Jake and me. I had no idea
why they did that.

The boys
presented awards to make sure everyone received some recognition.
They had Bob, Alan, Captain, Tad, Jay, and
myself up to award us with 8x10s of the cast, sans clothes, on the poop deck
with broad smiles. This photograph,
taken without our knowledge, must have been shot after the Jamaican fiasco.
They were all smiling and in a good mood,
including Keith. Bob cherished this like
a brick of gold, and the boys had signed his, 'To the World's sexiest producer,
Love from the Huckleberry Pirates.' I
had my own version as the sexiest director.

I passed out the
checks, giving the boys an extra five-thousand for a job well done.
Tad received 65,000, instead of fifty, and I
gave the captain a full 100,000 for being a true pirate.
My crew had done such a terrific job, I upped
their ten thousand to twenty. Sometimes
their work was nonstop, and to film those Jamaicans during this critical time
was amazing. CNN should have such brave
souls. Maybe they do.

We made sure to
give out a special award as the most patient, considerate, and bravest under
the threat of rape. Lisa came forward,
removed her bikini and accepted this award with love to every boy, especially
Kory. I had information from the doctor
that I hadn't revealed to anyone--she was pregnant.
Later that night when Kory wanted to borrow a
condom, I told him it wouldn't be necessary.
He gave me this look like I was putting a stop to his adolescent good
fortune. Kory nearly fainted when I told
him.

"What do we
do, Dad?"

"Isn't it
amazing that after the fact you asked your father for a solution?
That's for you and the young lady to figure out.
She's nineteen; you're fourteen; you do the
math."

I was enjoying
having Tad with his legs up in the air that night when my son came and sat on
the bed, as if a conversation wouldn't interrupt our enjoyment.

"Dad, Lisa
and I have decided to keep it. She'd
like to move in with us in Kettering, until she has it.
Maybe we will allow someone to adopt
it."

"It?" I
offered while doing gentle waves of motion.
The sea had taught me a nice rhythm.
"It is a human being like you are.
I'd advise you to think of this "it" as your baby who you produced out
of an attraction to put your penis in a hole."

"Like you
are," Kory reminded me.

"Yes, but
Tad has no possibility of getting pregnant and moving in with us.
We live in a two-bedroom townhouse.
Your gay brothers won't appreciate having a
pregnant woman in the same bed."

"Ah,
Dad. What if I marry her?"

"My fourteen-year
old son is not marrying, nor raising a boy or girl a few years younger than he
is. I'll think about Lisa living with
us, only because Paul and I have discussed renting a house together to fit four
boys."

"Thanks,
Dad." Kory breezed off and I'd lost
my erection. Tad assisted this aspect
and I had him giving me sounds of encouragement in no time.
In walks my twin son, Kyle, holding Rodney's
hand. With Tad on all fours, they waited
until we recognized their watchful eyes.

"Is someone
selling tickets to this show?" I asked.

Kyle had no idea
what I was talking about. "You
don't have to stop, Dad, but Rodney just got off the phone with his dad.
He came out, like told his dad he was
gay. His father asked him how he knew,
and Rodney said because he loved me and we'd had sex.
He didn't say a thousand times."

"Way to go
Rodney," I said, trying to maintain concentration.

"But there's
a problem, Dad. Mr. Miller told Rodney
to stay in Florida until he was straight enough to come home.
Rodney wants to know if he can stay with us."

Finally!
I rolled over on my back, but Tad wanted to
finish. He sat on my stomach and managed
to mount me while I fondled his delicious hard-on.
I attempted to take my mind off the number of
teenagers in a house I didn't own. In
strolled Lisa, minus her boyfriend. At
least she was naked. Way too comfortable
being around males, she sat down beside me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks, Mr.
Briden. I just wanted you to know that I
love your son. Kory is just the most
sensitive boy I've ever known, though he's only fourteen.
I'm glad he's as sexy as you are."

Those words
inspired me not to lose my erection. It
had been sometime since anyone had called me sexy.
I cupped her face with one hand and had her
look at me."Don't look at Tad's
dick, it's longer than mine or Kory's. I
don't want you to think that all males should be hung like he is."

I was glad she
laughed, kissed us both and departed. I
actually expected my youngest or my oldest.

We actually
consummated our desire to get off that night, but then I went in search of my
two love birds. They had their own tent
down by the beach and were laying together naked on a blanket. I sat between
them to humor my interruption.

"You two
remind me of those kids in Blue Lagoon, except my boy is more handsome and Lisa
is far prettier than Brook Shields."

I got tilted back and kissed by both
sexes. It had been awhile since I had a
boob on my chest.

"Now the way
I look at it, God wouldn't have given boys boners and sperm at such a young age
if He didn't mean for boys to use them.
Likewise, girls have their own mature parts.
I'm a believer than teens can have babies,
but the older people--that's myself, unfortunately--should do the raising.
Speaking for Paul and myself, if you don't
mind, we'll take this responsibility seriously."

"We've been
thinking the same thing," Lisa told me.
"Kory and I wouldn't want our baby brought up by people we don't
know."

We sort of shook
hands on it. I ended up having a head on
each shoulder with my hands moving gently up and down two backs and butts.
As nice as that evening was, I was quite content
to have two teenagers snoozing in my arms.

Tad recommended a
music choreographer and editor for our movie.
Another gay kid in college, this young man was a music major with a
skill in sound mixing and scoring independent movies.
Mine just happened to be the only one he had
ever worked on over five minutes in length.
Mark managed to obtain permission for a Rod Stewart song and an Eagle's
hit. The expense didn't break me.

We spent the day
looking at hours of footage, trying to sort which scene should go where and
what scenes would see the cutting room floor or the delete button in this day
and age.
Alan thought we should do two ratings, one
PG-13, and one R rating. The R rating
had the more sexual content, but the same nudity.
Tad chuckled with some of Kyle's filming and
our own.

"Do a
director's cut, as well, Brad. We'll
keep that one under wraps because of everyone being a minor," Tad
suggested.

"Will the
investor make a stink that there's another version?" I asked.

"You own the
film. He's receiving what he paid
for. Later on if we want to release this
version overseas, it'll be a separate entity."

"How about
pornography laws?" I questioned.

"Depends on
what country. Some countries have low
age of consent laws, like Spain, Russia, among others.
As an underground film you could make a
mint."

"I don't
like the sound of illegality. My boys
have learned that sex isn't all that big of a deal and that pleasure isn't
reserved for adults. I don't want them
exploited into a gray area."

"I'll check
the ground rules before we do anything," Tad assured me.

With the actors
returning to their homes with memories they would share the rest of their
lives, I asked Alan if he wouldn't mind going on one more excursion.
He smiled and told me he was too old to pass
up anything that made his heart beat.

I hesitated on
getting the golden scepter appraised, afraid that someone would trace it to
some shipwreck, which would cause treasure hunters to research wrecks and give
us competition. Finding a few minutes of
solitude, I did some accounting. My
lawyer for this family feud was costing me quite a bit, and whatever income I'd
planned on getting me through a few years had dwindled quickly.
Yes, I had overpaid everyone out of
appreciation and apology for the life and death predicament.
It wasn't my fault, but I was the director of
this show.

Paul
couldn't be expected to foot the bill for me and six kids.
My boys trusted me to do the right thing.
So far I'd released their sexual bondage, had
them excommunicated from their church, almost had them killed, Keith was raped
and sodomized in front of everyone by his brother, we had a pregnant girl on
our hands, and they all knew their father was gay and had several boyfriends,
but one serious one, who was a pastor of a church.
If I became a failure financially, they would
say that the Mormons had won and God abandoned me.

For whatever
reason I felt the Good Lord had blessed me over the past several months.
I had discovered myself and become the man I
felt comfortable with. Having sex with
my sons wasn't something I had planned, but they appeared okay with it. With
them I played an extremely passive role.
I had put the truth of the Mormon Church in their heads and definitely
left them with the impression that they'd belonged to a cult all along.
Paul had baptized all the boys while we were
in the Bahamas stretch of islands. To
have my sons blessed into the Christian church was invigorating to me and to
them. It was like they were reborn.

I admired their
new hairstyles: Kyle with his brown mop was absolutely darling; Kit was now a
longer blond, surfer boy who didn't surf; Kory parted his new light brown locks
which were straight, given his reputation; and Keith was just now getting used
to combing his hair into a nice part.

There was now a
voice in my heart telling me to venture once more out into the Atlantic.
If I failed, I'd be like the loony father who
had this pipe dream. My kids would laugh
and wonder why they ever believed in me.

My hand reached
for the phone, hesitated, then dialed.
In minutes I had rented a fishing trawler with two engines, diving gear,
and a blower/vacuum that treasure hunters used to search the ocean bottom.
I'm sure the guy thought I was nuts, or just
another idiot from up north who thought I could find another Atocha.
He boggled my mind with a dozen other items
that seemed necessary and practical. I
felt like I had just bought a car with a hundred extras.
With my past ocean experience I'm surprised I
didn't order an army of guns.

Chapter Seventeen

I had no
intention of taking Lisa with us, until she explained what an asset she could
be cooking and that she was an excellent swimmer.
This would allow Alan to be the lookout and
assure all the machinery was running properly.
I caved in, only because I considered her my daughter-in-law.

Down the gulf we
went, leaving Tad and company time to make sense of our movie.
Alan had a sense of direction with the sea,
while I organized the best way to approach this excavation of the ocean
bottom. Finding the island was not
necessarily going to be hard, but locating the exact spot that we had played undersea
explorers might be harder. One good
thing, we had an old cannon to mark our area, and Rodney was sure he remembered
the surroundings.

We actually did
fish, catching a few sea bass, mackerel amidst other odd looking sea
creatures. The four boys slept out on
deck, while Alan and I slept in one bunk, while Kory and Lisa had the
other. There was no privacy and our
sexual exploits were a nightly ritual--ours a little milder than two teenagers
who thought they had to try a dozen positions out of Kuma Sutra every night.Kory and Lisa were a regular sex machine,
which amused Alan and me. They became
our entertainment for a night or two.

Our arrival was
in rough seas, right in the middle of hurricane season.
I knew there was a class 3 storm brewing
south of Cuba, so we crossed our fingers.
For some reason islands look the same, yet Kyle was sure we had found
the right one. Five hours later the boys
had dove hit and miss, and it took Keith to find the cannon a half mile from
where we thought it was. The boys had
abandoned their SCUBA gear early to save on the tanks, so watching their bare
bottoms go up and down in the water was the hi-light of our first day.We began to mark the area off with buoys,
flags, and rope.

I had never used
SCUBA, so Alan gave me a quick lesson and we plunged below.
All the gear was cumbersome, but our first
day proved fruitless. Even finding the
cannon didn't mean we were right on spot to where the scepter was found.
Gradually by the second day we honed in on
metal, thanks to the metal detector we brought.
Centralized to a four foot area, we began to vacuum up the dirt,
seashells, and parts of a ship sunk over two hundred fifty years earlier.
Up top, Alan was discovering our find of gold
coins, chains, jewelry, and assorted crosses.
This ship wasn't a gold laden cargo vessel, but a vessel with one trunk
of booty, and we had found its heart and soul twenty-two feet down.

Going ten feet in
circumference I figured we had found the entire contents of that chest.
If there were more we could have stayed there
a year and been totally frustrated. In a
drizzle we stood there stark naked and admired our loot, all agreed to be split
evenly, except that the kids wanted me to use it so we could have a house of
our own.

To ride out this
ongoing storm, we stayed anchored there that night under a billion stars.
In the warm rain the boys had their orgy, and
Keith joined in the frenzy with a straight boy's appreciation of all things
gay. He wouldn't quite admit it, but
being fucked was a new turn on for him.

I told Lisa and
Alan to sleep, while Kory and I headed our vessel back toward Florida.
With the cargo we had, I didn't want to waste
time nor offer any opportunity for the unexpected.

Using tubs of
ocean water we soaked the treasure to rid the barnacles and crusted surfaces,
allowing the metals to adjust to a life other than the ocean's bottom.
I was never so glad to see the City of
Tampa. At his house, Alan paid an
appraiser $500 to value our coins and gold.
Examining the volume of material, he gave us a stunning perception; this
treasure had once been recovered, brought on board a Confederate runner and,
before the ship had a chance to use the loot or escape the seas, it had been
sunk by a violent storm. Chances are the
men either didn't know how to swim, or they died on an island without food or
water. A person could believe his tale
or disregard it as folly.

The appraiser
showed us parts of a gun, vintage the early 1860s that had been sucked up into
the vacuum we had used. Oh yes, the value
of the gold and coins was only a mere twelve million.
It was the jewels: rubies, emeralds,
diamonds, and sapphires that amounted to another ten million dollars.
We would put the loot up for auction at the
earliest possible time, with Alan taking his share of one/eighth.

I personally kept
our riches secret from my sons, Lisa and Rodney, though I did call Paul to tell
him to find us an estate around Kettering with a swimming pool.
He said it was God's blessing.

Chapter Eighteen

We returned to
Ohio in early September, school had started and my wife was antsy to get me
into court. My lawyer was not a
pushover, reminding the judge that, at the age of fourteen, a child may decide
which parent they wish to live with. Our
little porn star, Kit, offered his mother a most valid option.

"If you
insist that I live with you, I will bring home every boy I like to make love
to," Kit said without reservation on the stand.
The judge's eyes widened and possibly a smile
creased his lips.

"Then you
will be staying with your father," she replied abruptly from her sitting
position next to her lawyer.

Leaving the
accusations, photos, and pissing contest outside, we agreed amiably to an equal
settlement, though the judge didn't think it was appropriate for my ex to take
half of my $500,000 up front payment for the movie.
She seethed.

My sons, plus
Rodney, Lisa and Paul moved into a six-thousand square foot home in the
community of Oakview, a rustic environment for the rich and well to do.
I thought the tennis court was a nice
addition. We had privacy with tree-lined
paths and garden trails that led down to a beautiful pool and pool house.
With five boys and a girl, they could have
each had a room, but Rodney and Kyle roomed up, while Kit and Kory took refuge
again together. Kory had an adjacent
room to Lisa's, which allowed Keith his own private room.

The public
schools of Van Buren and Fairmont were excellent schools, but the boys liked my
suggestion of private schools. One-hundred
and sixty thousand later, I had five boys packed up to enjoy the intellectual
challenge of boys and schools with their eyes on Ivy League colleges.

After the first
day Kit had his eye on one boy, though he wasn't sure the kid was straight or
gay. He was quite willing to break any
straight boy like a wild horse.

After taxes, the
Briden household was worth a cool ten million, with my scepter mounted in a glass
case in the living room. Its appraisal
alone was close to ten million. The gold
was only $360,000, but the imbedded jewels were large and shiny.
It was a reminder of an interesting adventure
and good fortune. Maybe an actual
adventurous pirate from the eighteenth century was smiling down at us.

Eight months
later on the eve of summer vacation, Lisa had a baby boy.
Paul and I became the proud parents, while
Lisa and Kory had cooled their longings for each other, but were always good
for a quick romp in the hay. There's
something about a fifteen-year old boy who needs to sow his oats and fine at
least another six loves before settling down.
Lisa decided to continue her education at Central Florida with our
blessing and a start of a million dollars.

Our massive two-acre
backyard is, for all intended purposes, a nudist resort.
From day one there's never been a swimsuit in
the pool. With the boys visiting their
mother on occasion, her fourteen-year old stepson hit it off with Kit.
Though I question whether the boy is gay or
not, Kit has trained him to roll over and purr with the skills of another
fourteen-year old sex aficionado. My ex
has her suspicions that this poor Mormon boy has been seduced into pleasure by
the Briden boys. That's mostly true.

I finally
received the final cut of THE
HUCKLEBERRY PIRATES. The film
took off at several gay film festivals, though some of the critiques hammered
us. One said the movie was a fashion
show for the young male body without representing a cross section of body
types. I will give them that.
I'll have to admit we didn't choose any
overweight kids or ones that an average gay kid wouldn't drool over.
One writer said that the orphanage must have
been a refuge for gay teenagers. He was
right also with razor shape perception.
Overall, it's why men flocked to see the film, because twelve naked
bodies of boys would supply a month's worth of fantasy material.

Alan delivered the
Director's Cut personally. He said he
didn't trust the mail, as he hid that coy look that I loved about him.
We all agreed that the movie would have its
best draw at a man/boy convention, it was that erotic.
It could get any law-abiding citizen several
years being supervised by the feds. I
told Alan we could always say that the Jamaicans made us to it.
He nodded so that was our story.

The extras were
superb on both movies, more X-rated on the second.
I was surprised that Tad had done an
interview with Kit and Kyle. Kyle said
that his life had changed after his attempted suicide, and his message to other
gay teens was inspiring. His comments
about his father brought tears to my eyes.
I sensed but never really knew what an impact I had had on his life and
how our relationship had brought him to his new self-confidence.
I'd hesitated to give my sons any credit for
their intelligence or personal insights until I dropped my own biases and
started to listen to them. Kyle said
that I validated his soul and was his emotional backbone at the worst time of
his life when he made a stupid mistake.

"I had a
secret that consumed me and almost ended in self-hatred," Kyle told Tad as
they sat by the pool, completely comfortable being candid.

He went on to say he felt unlovable since he
was twelve and had a brother who mocked him endlessly for even the slightest
sexual nature. I had given him self-direction
and courage to live. "Most fathers
won't love you the way my father did me, but it's just important that they care
and try to empathize. Me and my dad are
one."

I gulped and knew
what people might think. Paul would say,
"Let them think what they want. God
finds nothing wrong in what you two shared."

Kit hugged his
brother with a heart that defined his character.
He said I should be general of the United
States and a teacher for all gay boys, whatever that meant.
I was afraid to ask.

With a minor
investment Paul and I started a dance group at his church, one specifically for
boys and girls to express themselves, no matter what their sexual orientation
might be. Rodney had quickly taken up
this fascination for dance with five other boys, not all of them part of this
congregation, but all gay. We hired a
retired dance teacher who was gay and wanted the challenge of freedom of
expression without censure. Teenagers
want to stretch the boundaries, the limits that society wishes to control
them. Within months the boys did a
ballet/modern dance called Afternoon of a Faun, a famous Nijinski
performance.

Paul's church was liberal in his leanings
and the hundred or so people who bought tickets were given advance notice of
the nudity and a sexual act. Like Nijinsky
the dance was concluded with a masturbatory climax done by Kyle and accepted
overwhelmingly by the audience. I was
quite proud of him for his brevity.

So Alan is
sitting with Paul and me by the fireplace a day before he departed, and he
says, "I want to do THE ART OF
LOYALTY movie in Japan. Are you up
for it? Bob Turner is putting up the
capital.I think Kyle and Kit would be
great for the roles of Kami and Ryan, and Keith and Kory fit right in to the
script."

I glanced at
Paul. "We're in."

By the way, Paul
and I allowed our sons to name their seven-pound, six-ounce nephew.
It was unanimous: Huck.
I found this name for my grandson most
appropriate.

THE END

The author appreciates
any feedback at Af71vet@yahoo.com.
As long as readers support my novels on
Amazon, I will add novels to Nifty for enjoyment.

Recommended on
Amazon:

A Blue and Gray Perspective By A Boy Soldier(an award winning gay novel that
has received much acclaim from readers)

Kings Academy(third part of a trilogy—the first two
books will be put on Nifty: The
Hyacinthus Project and The Art
of Loyalty)